this blog has been very dry the last few years since i’ve found it harder to write. every now and then i come back and write tidbits, but i hardly post them because i struggle to present unfinished things. i have so many drafts that perhaps one day i will feel comfortable sharing!
｡＊˚*✧･ i write slowly, and i write for myself—and if other people happen to enjoy it too, then i’m happy. although i’m not currently super active, i still love to interact with people and will always welcome a mutual. i am really bad at responding though
𖥔 WARNINGS: they yearn a lot in this fic, miscommunication/misunderstanding and angst is you squint, inaccurate depictions of regency/high society, written pre-release, expect him to be ooc. not fully proofread; expect mistakes!
♪ FINAL NOTES .ᐟ genshin always know how to get me back fml. doesn't help that he looks like marius and i. i really like that little shit okay. its so bad i had to get my copy of priode and prejudice to get inspiration and you can tell LMFAOOO ANWYAYS ENJOY!!! art credits: @.srro_yo on x!
It's a universally known truth that a man of Major Valeriy's standing must be in want of a spouse.
For as long as you've known the man, he would beat you in your fantasies of what it means to have a happily ever after. You find it endearing how much thought, care, and insurmountable fondness Valeriy had put into what his future life would look like. What his future with you would look like.
"A manor near the heart of the city," you recount his younger self, standing proudly on your windowsill with a training sword raised high in the air as you giggle behind your book. Valeriy shoots you a proud grin before jumping off his platform and making a beeline towards you. "Because you can't go one day without dancing with the common folk. I'd like to spare his Lordship from an early death."
A roll of your eyes makes Valeriy grin wider. He gently takes your hand in his, throwing away his pretend sword to put your book down, and coaxes you to stand. He lays a hand on his shoulder, while he intertwines the other in his own. The way Valeriy invites you to dance is never conventional. Sure, he'd do the gentlemanly thing and bow, kiss your knuckles, and deliver a practiced smile. Most of the time, he'd sneak up on you—a hand already interlocked with your own, his chin resting on your shoulder, and him humming your favorite piece when he enters your room.
And every time, Valeriy would smile.
Oh, how you want to keep that smile to yourself. Not the ones he practiced in front of your vanity mirror before events, but the ones he has now as he sways you back and forth in the direction of your music box. This smile is reserved for you and you alone. The kind where it's all tooth and boyish charm instead of a noble knight.
"There will be a ballroom in the living room," he continues his fantasy, guiding your every step with poise and grace. "We will hold all your birthday celebrations there."
"And what about yours?" you ask, the world escaping you in a blur when Valeriy leads you in a twirl. "Where will we celebrate your birthday?"
He shakes his head, "There's no need. A grand celebration for my birth has never been my style."
"But if I want to celebrate your birthday?" Valeriy only smiles at your pouty lips. His hand drags lower, respectfully keeping it just above your waist as he tugs you impossibly closer.
"What use will I have for a hundred faces when I only want to look at yours?"
You can't stop the blush that creeps up your cheeks at his honesty. And even if you did, Valeriy had a hidden talent for always keeping your eyes on him. It is impossible not to—not when he bats those inssuferably long lashes at you or when he looks as if you are the sole flame keeping this cold nation warm.
Valeriy was very good at making you feel special.
You wonder where that man has gone.
It has been years since you last saw him. All you had was a letter tucked between your pillows, his smudged handwriting announcing his departure in the coming fortnight, and how he deeply regrets not being able to say goodbye properly. Even now, almost a decade later, you remain in the dark on why Valeriy left. Every servant, every knight, every close companion that knew of his name all gave you the same vague answer.
"It's a knightly duty."
How you wanted to use your authority as one of Sneznhaya's future sovereigns to strip him of that title.
Valeriy would hate you. But at least he'd be there, just within arm's reach instead of some freezing camp where no light could reach him. You can live with him hating you because you can never begin to imagine a life where you grow older and he stays a certain age for all eternity.
"Won't you come dance with us, my liege?" Your apprentice, Vesna, asks.
You blink in confusion until your eyes finally catch up to the music played by the band. So lost in your thought, so lost staring at the back of your almost-lover's head from across the room, you had completely tuned out the rest of the world.
Vesna asks you again, her voice a little quieter. She shifts from one foot to the other, gloved hands clasped at her chest, her lips set in a pout as you hesitantly chuckle. You quickly turn your head, watching your figure dissolve and slosh around the champagne flute to avoid Vesna's pleading.
By the Tsaritsa, why have I agreed to this? You ask yourself with a wince. You were no knight, nor did you have a personal relationship with the Druzhna. So why in the world did you receive an invitation?
Sure, you may have mentored Vesna, the current Captain of the aforementioned group, but you wouldn't really call it mentoring. You were more or less a glorified advisor. The masses are blinded by your previous relationship with Valeriy before his journey. The memory brings a frown to your face. Vesna didn't fail to notice.
"Is something wrong, my liege? You seem glum tonight. Wasn't it your wish to dance in her Majesty's palace?" She questioned with a frown.
"Truly, Vesna, my dear, I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine."
As you were about to retort, the ballroom quiets to a low murmur. The crowd parts like the sea being cleaved with a sword as someone—mayhaps another official delegate from the Druzhna—announces Valeriy's presence. You almost hiss out in pain at the mention of his name. Almost.
His footsteps are heavy, laden with layers of snow during his travels, while a greatsword is strapped securely on his back. The chilly winds from the evernight have crept their way into the palace, forcing Valeriy's fur coat to sway in a dance that painfully reminded you of when the curtains of your room would give him away when he'd sneak out of training to see you.
Everyone bowed their heads, eyes landing on the floor as Valeriy's gaze swept the crowd. When he met you, you didn't think twice to follow the rest of the world. Duck your head, curtsy, and remain out of his lidded gaze when he passes you. You bite your lip in frustration when the scent of wildberries and iron wafts in the air. You don't remember him smelling like he had been through a war.
"That's Majory Valeriy," Vesna whispers to you. Head also ducked down as her eyes followed Valeriy's figure. "He hasn't been seen in almost a decade since his expedition."
"I know." Painfully so.
The younger girl turns to you as you both straighten your backs, and music erupts like a sleeping volcano. Her teal eyes are narrowed into an apprehensive glare as you take another glass of champagne. "Did something happen between you and the Major?"
You sighed, the air heavy and condensing in a small fog in front of you. "Nothing happened." Because it is the truth, even if you wish it wasn't.
How do you even begin to undo the suffering of a decade-long silence spent in the dark?
"Maybe you should ask him to dance." Vesna proposes, and you almost laugh.
"Knowing him, he'd decline." Your eyes betray you and find Valeriy in a corner, speaking with his fellow soldiers. "Major Valeriy doesn't look like the kind who dances."
"Well, we can't exactly know what a gentleman really is by the end of a single fortnight!" Your apprentice loops an arm around yours, the other steals your glass of champagne, and you watch as it's carried off to who knows where. You nearly trip over your own feet as Vesna drags you in the direction of Valeriy, and you could've sworn your heart leaped up into your throat when he looks to both your figures. "If we do not venture ourselves, then someone else will."
"I think I'd prefer if someone else did." A lie.
Vesna only rolls her eyes. "Very few of us can feel freely, my liege, and even fewer who have enough heart to let themselves fall in love without the sorcery of others." When you are but a few strides away from the Major, Vesna unloops herself from your grasp and gives you a final hug as she pushes you forward. "I can tell that you deeply love Major Valeriy. It's truly such a shame you don't believe that he loves you the same."
"Vesna—!"
Before you can get another word out, steady arms catch you before you can hit the floor. You can feel your heart pounding within your ribs as you screw your eyes shut, unwilling to believe that this is happening. That after a decade-long wait, Valeriy's arm came to circle your form as if he hadn't left.
"Careful," by the Tsarita, even the concern laced in his tone hasn't changed, as if ten years were a mere blink of the eye.
"I'm fine," you hurriedly reply. "I apologize for—"
"There's no need for apologies," Valeriy cuts you off, still holding your hand as you settle back on your feet. "Have you—"
"Enjoy your evening, Major."
You can't do this, you wouldn't. Not after you've spent more time mourning him than actually being with him. So you do what you've always done—you run. You turn away and do not give him the grace of finishing his sentence as you look for an exit. To a balcony, to a room, to the outside world, anywhere that didn't have Valeriy in it.
How ironic that now that your wish of being with him is fulfilled, you take it for granted.
He calls out your name from across the room, ignoring who he's bumped into, not even bothering to mutter half-hearted apologies. All he cared about was you.
"Please, I just need a moment to explain," he pleads with you, taking measured strides up the stairs and memorizing every twist or turn you take in the dimly lit halls.
"No explanations needed, Major, I think I understand," you coldly replied.
"I don't think you do. Just—," you gasp when he seizes your wrist, there's no pressure, Valeriy doesn't even fully wrap his fingers around you. When you finally meet his gaze, there's a torrential storm in his eyes. "Did you at least receive them?" He asks breathlessly.
"Receive what?" you question with furrowed brows.
Valeriy's lips form a thin line before he lets out a quiet curse. His head hangs low, and your view of his face is obscured. You almost don't catch his next words. "My letters," he says as if it's a shameful admittance of defeat. "I've written a letter for you every day. I pleaded to everyone, to anyone, for you to receive them. Please tell me you at least received one."
"I received none," you mutter in disbelief.
"Damn it all."
You stand there with him, frozen and waiting for the resentment in your heart to finally thaw out. But you realize dumbly that there were none to begin with. "I thought you had forgotten about me. Fled with another in some unknown land where I wouldn't be able to follow," you see his shoulders tense, and you take a deep breath. "Worse, I thought you were dead until news of your arrival a week ago."
Valeriy hasn't moved an inch from where he stands hunched over, his hold still on your wrist, but you know you can break free—he has never held you against your will. Even now, he puts your needs into consideration. And he apparently has for the last decade you've been apart.
"Did you really write to me?" Your voice breaks, and when Valeriy finally raises his head, you can't stop the tears that escape you. "Has it really been me even after all these years?"
"Of course it's you. There's been no one else but you…!"
"Then why did you leave?! Why couldn't you have stayed, and we could've gotten married like we planned, Valeriy?"
His gloved hand brushes away the tears you vehemently try to hide. "I had to. It's part of my duty as a knight. I couldn't just have you because you let me. I had to earn the title of your husband."
"So you leave me for almost ten years?" you laugh incredulously, a humorless sound as your fingers curl against the fur of his coat. "You already have me. All you had to do was get on one knee and recite some plagiarized speech from my favorite book, and I would've said yes!"
"And that's precisely the problem!" Valeriy holds you by your forearms, his brows creased into a furrow as his volume rises. "I could be a beggar on the street or a dying animal in a forest, and you'd still look at me as if I were worthy to stand beside you!"
"Because you do!"
"Oh, archons," he pulls away to brush away his hair, and you follow. Craving the warmth you thought you had lost. Valeriy looks at you, his chest heaving and biting his bottom lip as his mind works to find something to say. After a minute of agonizing silence, the tension in his shoulders is finally released. "It was bad enough that I kept skipping training to sneak into your room, but his Lordship practically killed me when he announced you'd be betrothed to someone else."
Your eyes widen at the revelation. Valeriy continues, "Some nobleman from another nation. Prim and proper, he could protect you better than I could. Can't you see? Your father thinks of me as another friend you'll be bored with in the coming years, a knight you had picked out of pity instead of the reassurance that I could do my job."
He lets out a shaky exhale. His gloved hands glide down to hold yours, and you can't suppress the shiver that runs down your spine at the fire Valeriy leaves in his wake. When he gently tilts your head up with his thumb, forcing you to look at anyone but him, you almost melt.
"I got in contact with the former Major. He told me he'd train be to better—a better knight, a better man. Someone suitable for your standing. I agreed, of course I did. I'd do anything for you. I just didn't—" his breath catches and drops your chin as he ducks his head in shame. "I didn't think I'd have to leave immediately. Not for this long. I'm sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I truly am."
You swallow the lump in your throat. Your fingers are still tangled in his coat, and it takes everything in your power not to pull him closer. "Tell me then," you start, voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what you wrote in your letters."
His eyes snap up to you, waiting. You hold his stare until he finally breaks. "I complained about the training regime. How insufferable it was not having you there to cheer me on." A fond smile slowly breaks out on his face, and a gloved hand is placed on top of yours on his coat as he continues. "You'd love the food and the people who made it. Every few months, they'd hold an event where they ask us trainees, to dance. You would have fit right in. I wrote about how much I missed you every day and how I can't wait to return."
Valeriy chuckles, his hand leaving yours to cradle the side of your jaw, giving you enough time to pull away. When you don't, he sighs at the feel of your skin despite the fabric covering his palms. "I… I got you a ring. I think I would have proposed to you with it."
Heavy silence followed the declaration. There's steadiness in his eyes despite the hints of hesitation in Valeriy's voice. "Do you still have it?" you practically plead.
A grin breaks out on his face, the kind you remember from your childhood as you danced in your bedroom when his trainer raised all hell trying to find him.
"Of course I do."
You finally laugh. For the first time tonight, a smile takes over your features as you ease into his hold. "Of course you would. What a silly thing to ask."
Valeriy laughs with you, the air in his lungs being knocked right out of him when you press your nose to his chest. He stands frozen, hands in the air as if he didn't know what to do with them. You continue to laugh when he finally wraps them around your waist, pulling you closer as his lips find the crown of your head. Valeriy all but melts into you.
"Do you still dance?"
His chuckle rumbles through your figure. A hand is already interlocking with yours as he whispers, "Only with you."
You smile at the declaration, nuzzling further into his chest as Valeriy begins to sway left and right. "I'm still upset, just to be clear."
"I know."
"You left me waiting for nearly ten years, so don't expect me to forgive you easily."
"I understand."
"And," you pull away to look him in the eye. Your hand brushes away the hair that gets in his eyes. "I want you to rewrite all the letters I didn't receive."
"All of them?" Valeriy asks with wide eyes.
You only nod, "Yes, all of them."
He doesn't reply, not immediately at least. You don't know for how long you sway back and forth in that dim hallway as you keep your eyes on his face, his eyes on yours, when he finally hums. Another smile on his lips as he twirls you, as he did back when you were young.
"As you wish." A laugh escapes him when he presses your foreheads together as the music from the ballroom comes to a close. "I'd rewrite them however many times you wish so long as you finally get to read them."
tumblr i hateyouihateyouihateyou i just finished a draft ive had since last august and when i saved it uou said “sorry we dont support this media format” what the FUCK do you mean I HATEYOU I HATE YOU i havent been able to post anything in so long and then i finally finished something and now you!!! do this!!! fuuuuck you!!!!!😭 my fault for not writing out of the app i guess but FUCK
⎯⎯ 𝑨𝑺𝑯𝑽𝑬𝑰𝑳 𝑿 𝑭!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹. ꒰ rated: fluff, sfw ꒱ mutual pining. written prior to 4.1 release. no existing masterlist this is my first post!
You are actually somewhat of a criminal yourself, Ashveil thinks.
He tells you this today, as he’s seated on the floor of Ashen Detective Agency’s office with none other than the culprit sitting beside him, the tips of your fingers resting atop your knees barely visible from how his coat blankets your form.
To be fair, he tells you this the very first day he sees you too, when you’re crouched in the alleyways of Dovebrook District feeding treats to a Security Doggo. (Security Doggos are mass-produced to feel nothing aside from a burning hatred for evil along with unwavering loyalty, yet they seem no different from any other dog with you. Had you actually tampered with them — you would find yourself in huge trouble with the Department of Aberration Defense, and even he wouldn’t be able to help you worm your way out of this one.)
Not that you care, apparently.
No amount of warnings seem to get you to waver, and so you continue stopping by the front of his agency each weekend to feed them treats. Only now, you’ve added a second stop before returning home — that is, feeding him along with Mr. Narrator too.
“You’re gonna get yourself in serious trouble one of these days,” Ashveil warns you between a bite.
You hug your knees closer to your chest, lightly tracing circles and shapes onto your knees. Playing innocent. “They just fell from my bag. Not on purpose or anything, Ash.”
(A blatant lie. It’s like you don’t even care whether or not he can tell).
You often lie about other things too, he quickly realizes as he reaches for his coat that is currently slipping down your shoulder, pulling the heavy thing back until it swallows you whole again.
Your most insistent lie is about the dogs, naturally.
The second would be the food — the food you claim to always accidentally make too much of. Routinely, somehow. And the third is that you claim you’ve grown quite used to the freezing temperature of his office.
It’s almost endearing how easily you can lie straight to a detective such as himself, as if it would take him any sort of deduction skills to be able to notice the way each of your meals come prepared with balanced nutritional value, or this way that you instinctively scoot closer to him and shiver beneath the thick layer of fabric.
He notices a fourth thing.
This being the way you watch him eat.
Discreetly, of course. Or what you believe is discreetly, your gaze lingering around his hands and the container a few seconds too long before darting elsewhere the moment he begins to lift his head, only to return again once he leans in for another bite.
It doesn’t escape his eyes. This, nor the fact that you’ve just now moved a little closer to him again.
Only enough so that your shoulder brushes against his arm through the thick fabric over you — the same coat he has adjusted no less than three times tonight, because for all your claims of being perfectly accustomed to the chill of his office, you do seem rather intent on burrowing into the nearest available source of warmth. (The source happening to be him, Ashveil assumes, is another complete accident on your part.)
He opts for taking another bite instead of pointing out his observations, and you relax against him a little more.
This way that you always seem most at ease once he’s begun eating the things you’ve brought him — it’s mystifying, Ashveil thinks, how someone can go to such efforts to be transparent while insisting on the exact opposite.
“The puppies weren’t here today, by the way.”
Ashveil momentarily glances back at you before returning his attention to the half-emptied container in his lap. “Hm… is that so? I’d say that’s good for your record then.”
You frown at this.
Either way, you settle further into yourself after that, fingers disappearing entirely beneath the sleeves while your knees remain drawn up close to your chest, and perhaps, had Mister N returned to the office, he’d have thought Ashveil was sheltering a stray from the winter.
Not entirely inaccurate.
Your eyes flick down toward the emptied container in his hand once he finishes the last bite, setting the box down along with the others you’ve brought him. They stack neatly onto one another while you remain close and quiet beside him, without a doubt preparing another excuse as to why there happened to be enough food for him and Narrator again this weekend.
He lets you keep it this time too.
The lies about the dogs.
The lies about the meals, as if balanced portions and warm containers just so happen to come together by chance.
The cold, as if the reason you sit so closely beside him has anything to do with temperature.
Some deductions are far too simple to be satisfying.
You shift from beside him once more, big coat falling down your shoulder again, and he decides to take this opportunity and lean back against the refrigerator behind him instead, quiet hum of the machine continuing as he studies you for a brief moment.
Then, he lifts his arms, and you pause. “Hm?”
“Oh,” you blink at him. “You were feeling cold too?”
“Mhm. Something like that. Warming unit’s been acting up recently. Might be better this way.”
He finds himself lying with you sometimes too.
Yet, unlike him, you seem to accept this answer without a shred of suspicion, shuffling to move a little closer to him with a satisfied nod. The coat slips further down your arm, and for a moment you hesitate, glancing between his open arms and face as if making doubly sure he means what he means.
“Oh,” you say again. “Just… one second.”
It takes you a moment. Your knee bumps lightly against the side of his refrigerator, the sleeves of his coat slipping down your hands while you lean forward, shoulder pressing lightly against his chest.
You pause, and your eyes flick down. You’d need to…
“Um…”
“Here. Hold still,” he says, reaching forward then, hands settling at your waist before you seem to realize what he means to do. “You’re really something, aren’t you? Let me help you up.”
His fingers span easily there through the coat, big against your sides while you blink back at him, simultaneously confused and suddenly aware that he is, in fact, touching you.
You choke out a small sound of surprise.
He moves you anyway.
It doesn’t take him much effort to guide you forward, lifting you just enough to shift you over his leg and seat you directly onto his lap instead, and your arms immediately come to circle around his middle, face hiding itself snugly against his chest.
wriothesley doesn’t usually ask for comfort, not with words.
he grips your hand tight, the sounds catching in his throat as he rolls into your embrace; the nightmare still clinging to his consciousness. you know what he needs, you always do. kissing his head and whispering into the dark, he falls asleep again.
when his shoulders sag under the pressure of his duties, his head hanging low—he asks you to dance. you smile at his outstretched hand; he thinks you might be his lighthouse on the shore. you sway in the quiet of his office, soft hums exchanged. he puts his forehead on your shoulder and thanks the heavens for you; what a life he must’ve lived before this one.
and on the days where you can’t seem to catch your breath and everything seems to be going wrong, wriothesley knows exactly where to meet you. your eyes are unfocused on a far away point when he interrupts with a gentle hand to your cheek. he takes you for a walk on the beach where he picks out seashells and you arrange them on the shore together. you draw in the sand and laugh at how bad the other’s drawing is. you know wriothesley doesn’t think he’s very good at this, but you can’t imagine anything better.
╰┈➤ Physical affect: At the beginning of your romance, you have to let him be the one to initiate it; he's still searching for the strength to commit to what's between you, but he intends to let you know, although touch would be one of the things he would strangely resort to. I feel that the first thing he'll look for will be your hands; to intertwine them with his, to kiss them, to massage them discreetly.I sense that hugs make him somewhat uncomfortable, so he opts to hold you in a slightly similar way; his hands rest on your lower back, your waists touch but your torsos remain separated, while maintaining eye contact.
╰┈➤ He doesn't like thunder. He finds it irritating; this could be because he finds it inconvenient, or too noisy, perhaps because it disturbs his peace or brings back memories. Whatever the case may be, he will not reject you if you try to soothe his annoyance. On rainy or stormy days, he is more likely to choose to relax/distract himself and let you give him affection, or cuddles. The weather in Sumeru must be erratic, so you both might get used to that routine, and he'll notice that you'll want to make the most of every minute of it, since he would not normally allow himself that kind of attention. Don't be surprised if one day he turns the tables and decides that he will be the one to give you that attention. It's not as if he didn't pamper you like a kitten during your breaks on previous adventures.
╰┈➤ If you ever invite him to stay longer at your house, he'll probably say he'll 'think about it'. At first, he'll feel a little self-conscious because you seem open to letting him integrate into your daily home life, which also means you'll be spending a lot more time together. But he really has no reason to refuse such an experience; at least he can admire you as you surrender to your sweet dreams, and be amused by your state in the morning.
╰┈➤ Live together: He gets the message: he's your partner, and you're okay with him no longer just a guest. From his hesitant response, you might have thought that he finds the idea of living with you daily somewhat inconvenient—sure, until he accepts. He takes seriously the idea that you are no longer his host, but something closer to his housemate. He will show you that he appreciates the invitation and will do everything in his power to make it a good experience for both of you.
╰┈➤He's actually an extremely peaceful housemate. He'll be willing to help you with any task needed to keep your precious home in good condition; he'll make sure to leave everything tidy and in its place. I feel like he would only offer to do the shopping to avoid being the one to do the deep cleaning, compensating for it. For his part, all he will ask for is a couple of hours of silence and tranquility so that he can continue his work and writing for Akademiya in the comfort of your living room. It will be his favorite study spot, just above the library.
╰┈➤ Words like 'a heartless puppet' lose all their meaning when he's with you. And in fact, you've noticed that over time he's stopped ranting so much about his origins and his 'qualities' that differentiate him so much from humans. Despite that, he'll be grateful if you remember it and keep it in mind (he's shown some indignation in his voice lines when you forget that he has no human needs to satisfy, as if it were careless or clumsy of you), after all, the fact that he is a robot/automaton created with divine magic is clearly part of his identity and essence as an individual, and it's something you should accept and take into account, just like all his other characteristics.
╰┈➤ Innocent gestures of affection destabilize him more than flirting; praising him for his abilities, paying attention to the smallest details about him and remembering them. And he'll definitely be embarrassed if you start acting like his number one fan, teaming up with Nahida to cheer him on and celebrate his achievements. Let's be honest, how could you not be proud to have him as a lover? Despite his personality, people tend to seek him out and like him, and it's great to watch him perform in a fight. He can definitely see that you adore him and it makes him feel so nervous, as if he couldn't believe his existence could make your eyes sparkle like that. It's a very strange feeling for him; you can't blame him for hiding under the brim of his hat for the rest of the day.
You looked into Ajax's gaze and saw the abyss stare back at you.
His irises swirled like a bottomless sea, bodies hidden beneath his waters that he would never tell you about.
His gaze was always distant. Hollowness would always follow him, sending shivers down anyone's spine that was unfortunate enough to catch his sight.
However, his gaze softened for you. Not as harsh, but it still held that emptiness. Never truly looking at you.
He knew the way your face would scrunch anytime something irritated you, the way your eyes widen when you get startled, or the way your lips would curve into a smile when he'd say something romantic. He knew every little thing about you, but his gaze never held boundless affection.
He loved you — he really did. You're the only person that makes his heart thrum. His only solace away from battlefields, your arms a haven for him that didn't require him to be a weapon — just a man.
His brain rattled wondering if he could ever love you like in those cheesy novels where the love interest gushed over the female lead. The abyss had ruined so much of him, he wouldn't be surprised if it took his heart as well.
He tried to make up for his lack of affection through gifts. Giving you the most lavish items mora could buy in hopes you'd still love him (you'd always love him, but no amount of reassurance would be enough to ease his restless mind).
In the dead of night when the only sounds were leaves rustling and ticks from the old grandfather clock downstairs; your form tucked under a thick blanket and soundly asleep — he'd silently lay on his back and stare at the ceiling. Contemplating.
He glanced at you — breathing softly — and felt a pang of frustration. Not at you, but at what he couldn't provide for you.
Couldn't give you a look of pure love, couldn't string together an original romantic comment that he didn't steal from a novel, couldn't love you like how you loved him.
Always looked at him like he hung the moon and stars for you, your gaze full of affection for him. You looked at him so lovingly it made him wonder what god pitied him and lead you to him.
He wished he could look at you like that, but his eyes had long since lost their shine and his shoulders weighed heavy with his sins. Instead, he reached out to you and held you tightly against his warmth. Hoping that if he held you tight enough you wouldn't realize what a horrible man he was and your love was just going to waste being spent on a sinful man like him.
syn: maybe you wouldn't mind getting your fontaine-boutique heels muddy just to get closer to him . . .
an: all fluff, a tiny weeny bit of enemies to lovers, girlbawss reader, reader moved from fontaine to natlan. i dont write at awlll but its kinich bday!!!!!!
natlan's heat was something else.
the sun reached through every field and corner until the air shimmered with warmth. the heel of your shoe sticks into the soil, maybe taking this commission that involved moving to a whole new part of teyvat was a bad idea—
and then, you see him.
kinich, malipo kinich, i think?
the hunter everyone talked about, but weren't close with—efficient, transactional, practical, always with that annoying lizard pixel thing that definitely talked enough for the both of them.
the one who looked like the sun literally kissed his skin, his bandana fluttering against the wind.. how can someone look this good sweaty? and his muscles—
"wow." you sigh,
"..what?"
he didn't bother greeting her, not even a smile, too focused tending to a field. you blink, "h-huh?"
"...you're staring." he says, tone flat. almost unimpressed that someone was clearly checking him out.
"i don't know what you're talking about." you lie through your teeth. suddenly, the dragon appears behind him, almost as if it's taking the form of what it can get to as close to ... snickering?
"see? told you she was ogling, servant. though i would've expected better taste!" ajaw roars. kinich rolls his eyes.
you scan through the tiny field in his backyard, it was... really well kept, actually. "i didn't think you'd be the type to farm."
kinich shrugs, "i'm not. saves money, brings profit sometimes." you huff, clearly this guy isn't for small talk. fortunately, a gust of wind breezes right past you, leaving you stumbling for balance as it blows your sun hat off your head—resulting in an undignified squeak coming out of your mouth as the heel of your shoe sinks an inch further into the soil.
"eek!"
"careful, you'll ruin your makeup and your fancy shoes." kinich replies dryly, planting another seed into the rich soil.
"excuse you—i can perfectly handle myself just fine..!"
he just gives you a side eye. "right."
"i did not come all the way here from fontaine just to get mocked by some guy with a rake." you huff, adjusting your skirt. this wasn't amusing at all.
"it's a hoe." he corrects flatly.
"whatever."
ajaw cackles, "how amusing... a farmer boy bickering with the new city girl! how amusing indeed... we must keep her, servant—"
"ajaw, we're not keeping anyone." kinich sighs. "...and she's not gonna last a week in natlan dressed like she's about to attend a tea party." he adds under his breath.
you're about to retort—really, you are—but apparently, natlan soil must have something against you as your heel sinks further into the ground, making you trip,
"ah—"
kinich now has a grip on your wrist, before pulling you close to his chest to regain your balance. close enough that you can notice how the sun kisses his eyelashes, his breath kisses your cheek—
"told you." he interrupts, his voice quiet, and having an almost.. well-hidden smugness in it that you just want to smack his face.
but archons help you, he's unfairly attractive.
...
the next week, you find yourself passing by his field again.
just a coincidence really... totally not trying to get a glance of him, obviously, totally not trying to get a peek of how the zipper of his collar is halfway undone and how he narrows his eyebrows when he ties a bundle of herbs together—
"you again?" he sighs, not even bothering to look up at her.
you stammer, "what do you mean by 'me again'..!? this is a public path, excuse you."
he finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze with that damn tiny smirk again, as if he has you figured out already.
"right, since you're already here; might as well make yourself useful...
...if you can even lift anything that's heavier than a teacup."
"W-WH—"
... and thats how you end up carrying some crate, your manicured hands gripping the wood. ajaw flickers, "ohoh! resorting to flirting now, country boy!? is this how you get free labor now? even for the almighty dragonlord, how lowly of you..."
"shut up, ajaw."
you huff, setting the crate down where it needed to be. "just for your information, 'm just helping because i feel bad,"
by the time you're done, you're covered with dust and dirt. you can't help it, this guy is infuriating, unreadable, quiet, but... something just keeps you pulling towards him. so it is to your surprise when he just places a bag that carries two bottles of quenepa and cacahuatl juice, with cute ribbons tied around the rims, in front of you.
you look up at him, raising a brow. "...and how much will this cost me?"
"payment. for helping today." kinich grunts, everything has a price, right? that's how he always lived after all, even though he found you... amusing at times.
"...and i'll walk you home."
he's already up and grabbing your basket and leaving before you could even protest, you gawk at him. he was being... nicer than usual.
he looks over his shoulder, and you swear to the archons, art museums would be put to shame with how the sunset just shines down on him.
"are you coming, city girl?"
...
this was not good.
you mutter to yourself as you lie down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling.
you, liking malipo kinich? no... this can't be...
your chest feels tight, your hands feel clammy against the sheets, your thoughts are as tangled as the yellow-streaked braids in his hair— agh, you're thinking about him again! you can already hear ajaw's obnoxious voice making fun of you.
“i can’t… i don’t—ugh, why do i even care!?” you groan, curling up.
you definitely don't care.
even as you tie your hair up, put on the closest thing you can find to boots in your room, and grab the closest thing you have to gardening—a tiny shovel.
because what else is the way to a country boy's heart like giving him a basket full of harvest and flowers you planted yourself just for him right? uhuh, mhm, yep, perfect plan.
this was a good idea.
it was absolutely not a good idea.
you're in your tiny backyard, just dumbly staring down at the seeds sitting on the soil. your cheeks heat up, not from the natlan sun, but from the sheer embarrassment and how you realize that you don't know what you're doing at all.
but whatever, you huff, leaning over the soil muttering about something along the lines of "this stupid, hopeless, little crush..."
all was going well, in fact, the first seed was about to take its home in the soil you dug up—only for the most horrifying, largest centipede in teyvat also deciding to become neighbours with it, slithering near you.
your scream practically echoes across scions of the canopy as you backpedal so hard that your back almost becomes one with the picked fence, with your tiny shovel being your last line of defense.
"get away!" you shriek, you don't even know who you're talking to at this point—no ones around, except for the wind and the tiniest bit of dignity you have for yourself.
a shadow crosses over yours, "...what is happening."
you look up, absolutely mortified. "kinich! what are you doing here!?"
he blinks, "what am i doing here? you—you singlehandedly scared off all bird population in our tribe, only to find you dueling a centipede with a baby shovel?"
"stop! go away!" she groans, at this point, she might as well become one with the soil.
kinich couldn't help but let an amused scoff slip past his lips at your melodramatic response. "i came all this way to rescue you from your perilous battle, and you want me to leave?" his eyes looked over your backyard, noticing the seeds, the watering can...
"...planting, huh?" he crosses his arms, "never took you for the farmer type." he almost smirks, repeating the same words you told him before.
he looks you up and down... "though, i guess overalls suit you."
before you could retort, he leans in over your fence, "but you know..." his voice drops into an almost teasing whisper. "if you wanted to impress me, you could've just asked me to teach you."
"i wasn't trying to impress you!" she glares, lying.
he hums, lips twitching into a small, lopsided smile. "come on, sunshine. first lesson."
his hand brushes yours, guiding your grip on the shovel, his warmth steady against your trembling fingers, and suddenly the world’s gone too quiet.
yeah, you're doomed.
even as days turns to weeks, you've... grown a bit accustomed to natlan, to farming, to kinich, even to ajaw—even your own backyard is starting to take off! no more clumsy confessions or tripping in mud anymore, just you, your hard work and a gloriously arranged basket of homegrown carrots, potatoes, and a perfectly grown sunflower in the middle like a golden declaration of love.
you can already picture kinich's closest thing he can muster to a surprised face when he sees it—yes, this is how you win him over. kinich won't know what hit him!
then reality strikes again.
first, it starts small. "okay, minor setbacks."
and then another, "..just need to try again..!"
now you're sitting on the soil, still in those damn overalls, why are all of the harvests going wrong!? your hands are stained with earth, eyes watery enough to water the next plant that will probably just die anyway, since that's what just keeps on happening in this damned garden,
the carrots are crying, tomatoes are weeping, potatoes are sobbing, and your one surviving sunflower is now doing its best impression of a drooping plant—everything is just, well, pitiful.
kinich could almost see everything from his field, when he reaches you (he definitely put ajaw on time out first), he doesn't say anything, before crouching down beside you in the dirt, and picks up the most tiniest and unique carrot.
a beat.
"that's a.. unique carrot." he chuckles.
"ugh, go away, kinich." she groans, exhausted and embarrassed.
"i didn't think you'd keep on planting, city girl." he raises a brow, amused. "i wouldn't be in this predicament if i wasn't trying to grow these for someone—!"
you freeze.
...
"for someone?" kinich echoes back, his voice is suddenly a little lower, a little slower. "huh. must be someone special," he mutters, poking a half-crushed tomato on the soil.
"for the city girl to go through all this trouble... learning how to plant in fancy overalls." he finally looks up at you, greenish-amber eyes soft beneath the brim of his headband.
"...and here i thought you were just... bored." he hums. tone almost ... sad? you blink.
he doesn't look at you as he replants one of your uprooted seedlings with careful fingers, brushing soil over the roots, making sure it's stable. as if this little plant represents something more...
he stands up again before you could speak. "but i do have advice, don't... go on tripping on soil for someone who doesn't deserve it, alright?"
kinich is absolutely livid. and spiraling.
from gatching glimpses of her watching her plants, shooing off pests and saurians trying to get a munch from her garden, faceplanting on the soil once, to even sitting down on the soil one morning to give the most inspirational pep talk to her plants.
it's... almost endearing. with how determined you are.
"ooohh.. you're watching over her again, servant. shall i fetch you a chair?" ajaw taunts, kinich rolls his eyes. "not now, ajaw."
not now, because he's absolutely spiralling over who this mysterious person could be, as he overhears you cheer "just wait until he sees this!" and "i hope he likes it.." in your backyard. a quiet truth settles in his chest, one he doesn't want to admit just yet, lingering.
could it be... ororon? that guy does like to plant... or maybe—
it's maddening. "stupid." he mutters under his breath at himself as he goes to plant a seedling, before wacking the soil on the ground as if it owed him mora,"if he ever says one bad thing about her... i'll make sure he regrets it."
he's starting to despise this mystery guy more than ever.
...
so.
kinich is absolutely reeling when he opens the door to his home to find you standing on his doorstep with a bashful smile.
holding a basket.
with your harvests and flowers.
that you planted.
kinich stares. just stares. is this a dream? some.. hallucination—
"did you.. walk all the way here? with that?"
"...is that what you have to say!?"
kinich doesn't mean to, but a small, exasperated-but-relieved laugh escapes him. ajaw materializes. "oh? what a quaint ritual! gift-giving at dusk! does the servant know he's being wooed!?"
kinich doesn't even bother shutting him up at this point. because you—a dainty city girl—his city girl, are holding a basket that looks like it was plucked straight from the sun, from weeks of hardwork... all for him. no strings attached, no payments required, just... for him.
he reaches out, brushing a stray locked of hair from your sun-kissed face. "..this is.. for me?"
"..who else would it be for." you stammer, avoiding his gaze. kinich smiles—even chuckles as he leans his forehead against yours. his hand covers yours over the handle of the basket. "you're really.. something else, city girl."
"you've been doing.. all this, for me." he murmurs, as if he's trying to convince himself than you. and then, because he's spent weeks spiraling over you, over who this mysterious someone, over your relentless determination for plants, he leans in—his lips placing a fleeting kiss against yours.
your breath hitches. you ignore ajaw's gagging noises in the background. "kinich..." you murmur, voice trembling and heart threatening to explode.
kinich lets out one last relieved laugh, his other thumb brushing lightly across your hand, "...consider it an advance 'thank you', you've earned it, mademoiselle."
with the basket forgotten at your feet, you realize you've done it. you've totally, completely, absolutely won malipo kinich's heart.
flins x reader | where things heat up during a training session with the lightkeeper.
Training with Flins was supposed to be simple: focus, learn, avoid distractions.
Except Flins was the distraction.
The room was warm, but he was warmer, leaning over you, breath brushing the side of your neck as he guided your arm through the motion you kept stumbling on.
“Relax,” he murmured. “You’re too tense.”
“That’s because you’re standing right there,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady.
He hummed, low and amused. “Oh? Should I move?”
His hands stayed exactly where they were, large, steady, smoothing down your forearm, then drifting to your waist to correct your balance.
Your pulse jumped so hard you were sure he felt it.
He did. And he smiled.
Without warning, he slid one hand up your spine, slow enough that it felt like a question and a promise all at once. You gasped softly, leaning back into his touch before you could stop yourself.
“That’s better,” he whispered near your ear. “You always get it right when you stop pretending you’re not affected.”
His fingers brushed your ribs, just enough to make your breath stutter.
Then he stepped closer, chest pressing into your back, the heat of him a steady, consuming presence.
You swallowed hard. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Of course I am.” His lips hovered dangerously close to your jaw but didn’t quite touch. “I like seeing what you do when I get too close.”
“Too close?” you echoed, voice barely a whisper.
His hand slipped to your hip, guiding your body into the right position, slow, deliberate, intimate.
“I could get closer,” he murmured.
That did it. You turned in his arms, heart pounding, and Flins didn’t even pretend not to enjoy it. His eyes traced your face like he was memorizing every reaction.
You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, thumb stroking gently beneath your eye.
“Tell me to stop,” he said. A soft challenge. A soft plea.
You didn’t.
Instead, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in.
Flins exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing to yours as if he couldn’t help himself.
“That’s what I wanted,” he whispered, voice rougher now.
He dipped his head, lips brushing, barely, against the corner of your mouth. Not quite a kiss. Not yet. Just enough to make the heat coil low in your stomach.
You breathed his name, and his grip tightened at your waist.
“Careful,” he murmured, tone dark and warm. “If you say it like that… I might forget we’re supposed to be training.”
You smiled against his almost-kiss.
“Maybe I want you to.”
Flins laughed, soft and disbelieving, before pulling you fully against him, his breath hot against your lips.
“Then come here,” he whispered. “And stop pretending you don’t want this as badly as I do.”
"It wouldn't be right for me to enter in a lady's quarters"
You look to Varka with your head tilted to the side, a small pout playing into a frown as you hum.
"Its really okay. I've had Flins in here last night"
Varka's eyebrows shoot upwards,
"Flins...? You mean, the lightkeeper? He... stayed the night?"
You nod, "yes, of course. He slept on the table over there"
Varka looks over to the smaller table where you kept most of your luggage. He looks a little confused for a moment before he sighs, "ah, I see. I forgot you were aware of his... true nature. I assume he turned into a lamp"
You nod quickly with a smile, "yes, he doesnt sleep much, but when he does, he turns into one. Its very interesting"
Varka hums along in agreement before biting onto his bottom lip.
"Even still..." he starts, his eyes on yours, his stare is a little hot, "you shouldn't invite him over again. You're a lady, its not proper."
You smile softly and shake your head, "that I am, but I care little for those nonsense rules."
"They're not nonsense" he huffs, "you should take better care of yourself"
"Are you worried for me, sir Varka?"
Varka blushes at the way you've addressed him, your teasing tone has seemed to do a number on the elder man who groans softly.
"Of course i am" he hushes, "You're impossible sometimes"
"So is that a yes? You'll join me in my room?" Your eyes sparkle as you smile from ear to ear, looking at the man who frowns at you.
"Its a no." He states blandly before tugging onto your waist, pulling you in so you bump into his chest. Your heart pounds as you feel your bodies collide.
"But-" you look up to his eyes, they're stern, yet you notice them wavering as he leans in. His breath hitches, just as yours does,
"Behave" he mumbles into your lips before he lightly nudges your nose with his.
"You're no fun" you huff, your palms on his chest to push away at him, but he holds onto them instead.
You gulp a little when you feel him take a hold of your palms, only to place them near his lips.
Its your turn to fluster when Varka leaves a soft, tender kiss on your knuckles. His eyes, never leaving yours till hes leant back into your ear, whispering,
"Be good and I may just pay you a friendly visit. No more visitors till then, even if they transform into an inanimate object"
A dear anon Requested; Yandere Rover with unlucky reader.
While thinking about how to write it, I remembered a request in my Wattpad; Yandere Male Rover with an Isekai'd simp reader.
The ideas opened the flood gates and I combined the two to write it, But accidentally I posted the half written Oneshot instead of saving in drafts, in a panic I deleted the whole thing and then lost the anon Ask.
(╥﹏╥) ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ
After having a meltdown, I got back the motivation and wrote it from scratch.
Yandere M! Rover x unlucky simp isekai'd F!Reader
This was the blueprint / reference sheet for this sotry.
Slowburn
12k words (was having so much fun writing this I didn't even notice the word count.)
Wuwa Version 2.0 Rinascita spoilers
Part 2 coming soon
Rinascita was never ready for your thirst.
You were losing your mind. Not in a metaphorical, “haha I love this game” way—no, actually losing it. Right there on your bed, wrapped in a blanket burrito, your phone inches from your face, you screamed at a pixelated man who had no idea the chokehold he had on your soul.
“YESSSSS! 100K DAMAGE! GO OFF, KING!”
Your screen was a whirlwind of Havoc energy—your Rover dodging as your fingers maneuvered with precision on your phone screen. With a flick of his fingers, the Umbra bar pulsed to max, you clicked the resonance Liberation.
His voice came:
“You will Obey!”
“AHHHH I SWEAR TO GOD YOU COULD MURDER ME AND I’D THANK YOU—”
Dark Surge erupted. His scythe formed from a pulse of void-black resonance, and in a single sweep, the TD was gone. Like, deleted. A 100K crit damage number splashed across the screen and you collapsed backward like it had personally hit you.
You clutched your phone above your head, grinning like a madman, heart pounding like you'd just been proposed to. “This is it. This is peak gaming.”
Then gravity remembered you existed. The phone slipped from your fingers and smacked you right on the nose. You yelped, hands flailing, dignity nowhere in sight.
Peak gaming? More like peak misfortune.
After picking up your phone, you started to do your dailies. The dailies were easy. With him by your side, you finished off everything with a grin. You tried to act normal—keyword tried. But you still found yourself whispering, “Look at my man gooo~” every time he did that spinning blade combo.
"Now, I just need to finish the Rinascita quest and Aero Rover is mine!" you declared dramatically, just as your phone clung to life at a tragic 5%. You stared at it like it had personally betrayed you. With the sigh of someone who's been wronged by fate itself, you slapped it onto the charger.
When you finally logged out, you sighed long and hard, rolling onto your stomach.
“God, I wish I was there,” you muttered. “Like, not even in a weird way.” You rolled around on the bed, talking to yourself like any sane person would. “Okay, maybe a little weird, but I just wanna meet him. I’d totally be chill, right? I’d be cool. He wouldn't know I'm mentally married to him. I can fake normal.” You stared up at the ceiling.
“Just one chance, universe. One chance.”
Like the protagonist of every isekai anime ever, you fell asleep like that, mind filled with daydreams about him. Blanket half on the floor. Still mumbling about scythe physics and “how hot it is when he says anything in that voice of his.”
You woke up mid-scream.
Not because you were in danger. You were falling. Your body was currently plummeting through the air like a sack of potatoes. A flash of green, a swirl of clouds, and now—face-first into a patch of moss.
“Mmfh—ow—oof—my back…” you groaned, rolling over with all the grace of a flipped turtle. Leaves stuck to your cheek. Something—probably a bug—buzzed suspiciously near your ear. You slapped it away with a shriek and scrambled up, wobbling like a newborn deer.
What the hell?
You looked around, eyes wide. The trees swayed gently above you. As you looked up, a breathtaking sight unfolded—towering trees and jagged mountains pierced through the clouds. Ancient ruins peeked through the foliage, whispering tales of a bygone era. The air was thick with the scent of moss and hummed with strange frequencies.
Everything shimmered faintly, like the game’s graphics got injected with magic steroids. Except... this wasn’t your screen. This was real.
You smacked your own cheek once. Twice. “Ow—okay. Okay. This is happening.”
Your heart thundered. You spun in a circle, awe and panic slamming into each other like bumper cars. “This is Rinascita. This is actually Rinascita—holy SHIT I’m IN the GAME.”
You shrieked and tripped over a tree root you definitely should’ve seen, collapsing into a bush. It scratched the hell out of your arm, but the pain was just proof: real, not a dream.
And then you heard footsteps. You froze, your butt still plopped on the bush.
Crunch. Crunch.
Shadows danced across the moss. A low hum of resonance energy vibrated through the air, in a way that sent goosebumps down your spine.
As he came into view, your lungs forgot how to function for a second as your gaze collided with his. Broad shoulders, lean waist. Black belts/straps wrapped around his hips and chest—he looked very dreamy up front.
And those eyes, so magnetic. “I love you,” you blurted out without even letting the thought cook in your brain.
The silence was loud, as he paused, shocked by the abruptness and genuineness of your tone. Even the wind paused like, girl.
You clamped your hands over your mouth, eyes wide in horror. “I—I mean—not like that—I mean yes like that but not in a weird way—well, okay, maybe a little weird, but—oh god, I just—I swear I’m normal. Sometimes... Fuck.”
Rover tilted his head, stepping closer, his eyes zoning in on the cut on your arm. “Are you injured?”
“Yes—no—I mean emotionally, yes. Physically... just my ego,” you mumbled the last part, still embarrassed.
You tried to stand, but your foot caught the same cursed root and you fell again, this time right at his feet. Like a peasant paying tribute.
You groaned into the dirt. “This is why I can’t have nice things. My unlucky streak is at it again...”
He didn’t laugh. Of course not. He is a gentleman through and through. Instead, he crouched down beside you.
You stared up at him from the ground, limbs tangled and expression fully dead inside. “You’re even hotter in person. That’s not helping.”
Pause, try not to be so obvious. you scold yourself, reminding yourself to keep the fangirling to a minimum.
He held his hand in front of you to help you get up, voice low and calm. “You seem... disoriented. Are you actually alright?”
You shook your head, took his offer with the kind of reverence usually reserved for divine intervention, allowing him to pull you up. He didn’t comment on the way you tripped again immediately after and used his jacket to steady yourself.
“I am sorry,” you whispered, gripping the fabric like a lifeline. “I’m not usually like this...”
He helped you be steady on your feet. His eyes didn’t leave your face. “That’s difficult to believe,” he said softly.
You couldn’t tell if he meant it as sarcasm or observation—but either way, damn, it did things to you, and he was so close.
You feel the lingering warmth of his hand on yours.
Not metaphorical warmth, Not the “he touched me, oh my God I’m swooning” kind. Actual heat, like a campfire still flickering in your veins. You glance down at your fingers You’d clung to him like he was the last thread tethering you to sanity—because maybe, he is.
He hasn’t stepped away, still hovering near. You guess he’s staying close so you don’t trip again. aw, how nice of him!
You’re still staring at that hand of yours. It’s shaking, combined with the sting of the scratch on your arm.
You blink down at your fingers. Curl them. Uncurl. You press your thumb into your palm like you’re trying to wake up—you already know the answer but you are still in denial. Nothing happens. The world doesn’t blur. There’s no logout button hovering over your peripheral vision.
Your throat tightens.
“I’m in Wuthering Waves,” you whisper, voice barely carried by the air. “The game. This is the game.”
You blink up at the sky—those shattered clouds, the hazy blue, the orange-tinged light that never feels quite right. It’s too beautiful to be real, and that’s the problem.
“I’m in the fucking game.” Your legs go stiff. You can’t look at Rover. Not yet. You can feel him beside you though. “Wait, wasn’t Truck-kun in charge of Isekai?! I mean, I love this game and I’m in it… I was happy a moment ago, but now I suddenly feel anxious!”
“I can’t even run two miles without gasping like a dying fish,” you mumble, voice catching on a breath. “I sprain my ankle walking too fast in socks. And now I’m here… in a post-apocalyptic monster hellscape…”
A breath escapes your lips. It sounds like a laugh, but it’s broken. It doesn’t make it past your teeth.
“I’m going to die here,” you whisper, almost stunned by your own words. “Of course this happened to me. Of course, knowing my luck. My life is just a string of bad RNG. And now in a game that would have me killed in less than a second!”
Your knees feel unsteady. The nausea creeps in like a slow wave, curling into your gut. Rover silently stands beside you, So completely unaware that you are currently having a mental breakdown in HD 4K resolution.
Maybe he knows but doesn't want to interrupt, ah, you are too far gone to think about that. You inhale shakily, Try to joke it off. “Haha, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you whisper but Your voice cracks.
Cool. Cool. Everything is fine.
You stare at him, Then you ask, “Have you met Cartethyia yet?”
He tilts his head. “...Who?”
You laugh. It’s the kind that sounds like it’s trying to crawl its way out of your throat, a panicky exhale.
You start mumbling.
“Montelli family… yeah, you’re supposed to team up with Carlotta. There’s this whole bit where you join the Troupe of Fools? Fight against Phrolova but make it look like a carnival performance. And then you receive the Laurel from Cartethyia, the Maiden. You meet her when she is dancing on water.”
You rub your temple, your brain short-circuiting, You crouch on the ground, slowly curling in on yourself, arms tightening around your knees.
“I don’t want to die,” you whisper, too soft. “I don’t even know how to hold a sword. I can’t fight monsters. I can’t run.”
Seeing someone fall, Rover quickly ran to help the said person. He had noticed you long before you realized he was watching.
Not just the way you stood awkwardly in this world—your posture not matching the other inhabitants, not aligning with the rhythm of this reality—but the way your eyes followed him. That slow trail of longing, like your gaze held a history no one had written yet.
He sees people look at him all the time. Wanting something. Needing something. Dressing up desperation in flattery.
But you blinked at him like someone seeing a memory in flesh. Like someone who couldn’t quite believe he existed. And then—“I love you.”
The words landed with a sincerity so bare, so vulnerable, it made his breath still for half a second.
Not lust. Not seduction. No angled smile or slanted voice. Just a truth, trembling at the base of your tongue, so unfiltered it didn’t even wait for permission.
His mind locked onto you like a puzzle piece with edges that didn’t match anything else in the box.
Flirting—he’d seen it all. It was currency here, like pain or adrenaline. Everyone tried it. A hand brushed too long, a compliment too smooth, a feigned stumble into his chest. It was the unspoken agreement of survivors: flatter the strong, and they might protect you.
He’d grown immune to it. So when you said you loved him?
He waited for the follow-up. The manipulation. The ask. The trade. But it never came.
You just stood there, awkward and pink in the cheeks, with eyes darting like you regretted speaking too loudly in church.
He noted the way you bit your lip, then tried to backtrack. The fumble of your fingers, the way you kept glancing away like maybe if you looked somewhere else long enough, time would rewind itself and un-say what you’d said.
Cute. He found you cute.
He’d catalogued emotions a thousand times. Studied expressions for lies, eyes for betrayal, postures for threat.
But yours didn't fit any category.
And then came the dump.
The babble of a girl who knew too much. Who said names like passwords, dropped references like prophecy.
At first, he assumed you were delirious. Shell shock, maybe. Madness. The kind that comes after a concussion, you did appear out of nowhere from the sky.
But the more you spoke, the more specific it all became.
You told him he was a character. That you had played through this world, and he was at the center of it.
He didn’t believe it.
But the clarity of your voice, the ache in it, the precision with which you whispered names—it didn’t match a lie. It matched conviction.
He stored it. Like a tracker tagging something rare. Slid the information into a mental folder and filed it next to things he wasn’t supposed to understand yet.
Later. He’d circle back to it later.
He watched as your body began to tremble. As you sank into yourself, shoulders hunched, head bowed like the weight of this world and the other one you came from had finally crashed together.
“You’re still alive, see,” Rover finally spoke, making you look up at him from your knees. He crouched down beside you again.
“Let me help you. We should definitely go somewhere safer. The forest is filled with TDs.”
Offering you his hand again, he watched as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.
“I’ll ask Zani to accommodate a place for you to stay. It seems you’ve lost your way.”
You blink rapidly. Rover watched you with a calm, unreadable gaze, waiting for you to take his hand. It seemed you had finally calmed down—or perhaps he’d distracted you—because the last trembles of your meltdown were fading.
“So,” he said, voice smooth like worn velvet, giving you a small smile. “What is your name?”
You, still high off panic and full simp-mode, blurted, “You can call me your wife.”
Instant regret. Your eyes went wide. “Wait, I didn’t mean—I mean—I don’t mind if you do, but I didn’t mean to—oh god, I’m making this worse—sorry—ah, I’ll stop!”
You buried your face in your hands, wanting the ground to open up and swallow your simp soul. “Forget I said anything. Please.”
Rover couldn’t help the amused glint in his eyes. He wanted to test something. The edge of his voice dipped, smooth and amused, just enough to tilt the world sideways.
“...Would you tell me your name, or should I start calling you ‘my wife’ ?”
You squealed internally. Your soul left your body. Your mind short-circuited. “That would be nice,” you said in a dazed whisper.
Rover chuckled softly. You were quite fun to tease.
Your eyes flew open. “Ah! No! I mean—sorry! My name is [Name]!”
You finally took his hand as he helped you stand. You let go quickly, already embarrassed and internally cringing at your slip-ups. You wanted to keep your fangirling side locked up, so you took a step away from him.
“I’ll guide you back to Ragunna City and help you settle,” Rover said, already walking ahead.
You stayed frozen in place.
Noticing you weren’t following, Rover glanced back. “Stay close,” he said calmly.
Startled, stumbling a bit before quickly jogging to catch up, falling into step beside him.
Oh god. You are so fucked.
You and Rover have been walking for… you don’t even know how long. Not to mention, as you two were walking out of the forest, there were so many TDs that attacked. Thank god Rover took care of all of them, and you were happily cheering him on from the back.
The misfortunate situation is not lost on you, knowing how your luck is, you were kinda expecting to run into more trouble after that. But this journey so far has been peaceful, and now you really don’t want to jinx it.
Oh, thinking about how peaceful it is might jinx it. I should stop. You shake your head to dispel the thought.
The weather’s nice too. Sunny, but not too much. The clouds, thick, cottony ones, hide the sun occasionally. Just the right kind of sky to take a walk and touch some grass.
Reaching a set of stone stairs, you notice a Resonance Nexus nearby. Rinascita Nexuses are shaped like the lower part of a fish’s tail, it’s unique. And on your left side… is a cave. A very dark one.
“Do you know this place?” Rover’s smooth voice comes from just beside you, making you snap out of your daze.
“Umm… I don’t know much of the map of Rinascita since I just started playing and then got dumped here. Well, I already know about the port part, where Brant and his crew leave you and then you meet Zani. I think… My memory’s a little fuzzy. Wait, no! You meet Phoebe first… now that I think more about it, you meet an NPC called Cristopopo. No, um… what was his name?”
You ramble on, words slipping faster than your common sense.
“Cristoforo…” Rover answers, his eyes narrowing as he watches you with a sharpened gaze. “How did you know all this?”
At first, he chalked off your ramblings as a possible concussion response. But now? You know how he arrived here. Who he met. Too much, actually. All of this is starting to feel very suspicious.
“Because I was the one behind the screen, Rover!” you chuckle, then pause.
Wait…Your brain stutters. Shouldn’t I be hiding the fact that I know too much? I’ve seen enough isekai anime to know this is a red flag move.
“Oh shit…” You slowly meet Rover’s gaze and smile as innocently as possible. “I am a normal human… who’s a little crazy. Yep! I think I actually got a concussion by falling from the sky! Weird… hahaha…”
You laugh nervously, trying to lighten the mood, where was your common sense when you needed it the most?!
But those golden eyes, glint with something unreadable. The air suddenly feels thick with tension.
Rover nods slowly, and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “This is the way to the city square.” he says, pointing toward the cave.
…?No way. If you remember correctly, this actually leads to the Cathedral—the Order’s base.
Still, you follow him into the cave. He walks a few steps ahead while you lag behind. It’s dim, lit only by candles on either side, on the ground, shadows licking the stone walls. The air is cold and damp.
It’s so dark that if someone were to murder anyone in here… no one would know.
You chuckle to yourself.
Imagine if Rover brought you here to murder you because you’re suspicious. Hahaha… funny.
Rover pauses mid-step as if he heard that thought.
You freeze.
He turns to look at you and you swear his eyes are glowing.
“There are stone stairs up ahead. I think I should guide you from here, knowing how you can trip unprompted.” he says, offering his hand.
Aw, how nice! But wait, did he just make fun of you?
Eh, whatever. You can’t focus on that when Rover just remembered something so trivial about you! Your heart does a little flip as you take his hand without hesitation.
He helps you walk down the stairs, and the cave opens into a half-balcony area. From here, you can see the structure of the place more clearly.
There’s an opening to your left where the stairs lead down to a wide area with a fountain in the center. Another balcony lies to the right, and what looks like an elevator structure stands to the left.
Oh! you know this place.
“Rover! This is the Cathedral area, not the city square. The elevator leads down to the entrance of the Cathedral and…”
You walk to the balcony that overlooks the Cathedral’s massive dome.
“And I remember doing an Echo Challenge: Flight VI here!”
You turn to face Rover. “So why did you—” Your voice dies inside your throat as you see the look on his face.
He’s smiling, The I-just-confirmed-my-suspicion kind of smile.
And he looks so hot.
“…you know a lot more than you let on,” he says, casually.
You raise both your hands in surrender. “Look, I’m from another universe who got dropped into this one out of nowhere! And then I met my future husb—”
Rover raises an eyebrow. You panic and pivot mid-sentence.
“I mean, I told you everything I know! I’m no threat! I can’t even fight or anything!”
You’re really selling this like a bad NPC, and the delivery is getting desperate. A true Oscar performance.
Rover nods again, as if still processing your info. Then he lifts his chin toward the landscape. “That’s Ragunna City. But you already know that, don’t you?”
You look out across the scenery. In the game, it’s beautiful but in real life? It’s stunning.
“Are we gonna take the elevator, then a boat to the city?” you ask, excited.
“No,” Rover says. And suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you.
You gulp.
His eyelashes are so long. His lips look kissable as hell
Focus!
“—Ready?”
“Huh?”
Before you can even process it, Rover’s hand wraps around your waist and pulls you close as he jumps off the balcony.
His Flight wings appear just in time, catching the wind, and the two of you are soaring through the air. The wind rushes past you, your heart threatening to beat right out of your chest.
Down below, the city opens up in all its glory. It’s breathtaking.
Rover lands gracefully on the city square, letting go of you immediately. You wobble, regaining your footing, eyes wide.
“You should’ve warned me first!” you exclaim. “But that was awesome! It’s such a bummer you can only use this utility in Rinascita and not in Huanglong.”
Rover frowns slightly, but then smirks. “I did tell you we were about to fly down to the city square.” He leans closer to your eye level. “Seems like, you were lost in that head of yours.”
Ugh. This man. Why is he so……illegally attractive?
Ragunna City in all its glory, where the architecture immediately captivates with its harmonious blend of form and function. Buildings rise in warm hues of beige, ivory, and terracotta, their facades adorned with intricate carvings and ornate balconies that seem like something straight out of a dream.
Canals weave through the city like veins, crossed by arched stone bridges that connect various districts. Along these waterways, colonnaded walkways provide shaded paths, their columns supporting overhanging terraces lush with greenery.
"Wow!" You’re blown away by how breathtaking the city is. “It’s about time Zani called…” Rover murmurs just as his terminal rings.
“Unfortunately, bad news, I did connect with the places around, but there aren’t any rooms available in any of the hotels in the city,” Zani says over the call. Rover had asked her if she could arrange a room for you.
What surprises you more is that Rover didn’t mention a single thing about how he found you, where you're from, or any of your wildly suspicious ramblings. He simply stated you were someone important to him and that Zani should treat you like she treats him.
Weird… but you don’t dwell on it.
“I’ve told some of my people to keep searching. This is uncanny to say the least,” Zani continues, and Rover hums in response.
“If we can’t find anything,” Rover says, turning his gaze to you and calling your name, “you can stay with me.”
You blink. Spending a night with Rover? In a room? Alone?! Count me in.
After the call ends, you’re busy ogling the streets—your eyes wide as you try to soak everything in.
“Would you like to look around the city?” Rover asks, voice smooth as silk.
“Can we?! Don’t you have to, like… go meet the head of the Montelli family? Maybe a certain troop of fools to plan the Carnival performance?”
There you go again, digging your own grave with the shovel. Might as well throw in a few flowers while you’re at it, because Rover is clearly locked onto you again.
“…”
“Ah—I would love to! Let’s look around the city!” you shout, immediately speed-walking toward the Tub Tacet Discord to distract him.
“Hey Rover, she is very suspicious…”
“Shh…Abby, now is not a good time.”
Rover simply follows, letting you lead the way, subtly steering you through the city like he’s indulging you… or observing. Either way, you're too thrilled to care.
The shops are narrow but deep, with arched doorways and canvas shades overhead. The lighting is dim but golden, bouncing off copper lanterns and polished wood counters. Markets are open-air, scattered through the city like hidden gems.
You’re definitely enjoying yourself. Doesn’t this feel like...a date?
And to think—your mother luck has finally shown up for you, because nothing bad has happened so far. This whole exploration? Solid 10/10.
“I won’t be coming back to the hotel tonight, so the room’s all yours. I have some things to take care of. We might see each other in the morning.” Rover says as the two of you finally arrive at the hotel he’s staying at.
Might…? You blink. Right, it’s probably the quest time. Maybe he’s off to meet the Troop of Fools or something. It is nighttime, after all.
“We won’t see each other in the morning?” you ask, the disappointment slipping out before you can stop it.
“Maybe, maybe not. It Depends.” Rover gives you a smile and with that, Rover walks off after handing you the room key.
You enter the room and plop onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. So tired. Your legs are aching like you walked across the entire map. Rolling back and forth on the mattress, you try to find a comfortable position.
“I wonder… why didn’t Abby appear when I met Rover? In the Rinascita quest, Abby was always out and about…”
With that final thought, sleep takes you, deep and heavy, completely unaware that, somewhere out there, you had already slipped beneath their skin, settled into their thoughts.
The next morning, you're already up and about, practically skipping through the sun-dappled streets of Ragunna City. How could you not? You're in the world of Wuthering Waves! The most logical thing to do? Soak in every glorious detail.
Well, after that nervous breakdown yesterday, you’ve come up with a brilliant idea—you're going to settle in Ragunna City, find a job, and live a comfortable life, far away from the wild and hostile Tacet Discords.
You gasp, the memory of the Phrolova fight and its breathtaking cutscene flooding back. Oh. My. God. You're so ready.
You race toward the gathering crowd, the air buzzing with anticipation. Brant sits atop a high platform. But where's Rover? Maybe he's with Carlotta, preparing for the performance.
Suddenly, red petals begin to drift from above, catching the sunlight as they fall. You look up, and there she is.
Phrolova.
Your heart skips a beat. The sky parts like a curtain, revealing a scene that's both eerie and mesmerizing. The atmosphere is tinged with an otherworldly aura, sending a thrill down your spine.
The crowd's cheers swell as Phrolova begins to speak, her voice resonating through the square. She gracefully settles onto a circular hoop suspended in the air, exuding an ethereal elegance.
It's about to begin!!!
You watch, enraptured, as Carlotta and Rover take the stage, battling wave after wave of Tacet Discords. Brant narrates the scene like a grand play, his words weaving the action into a captivating story.
The climax arrives with a burst of fireworks as Rover slices through Phrolova's wand with his scythe. He lands on the stage, the remnants of Phrolova's domain dissipating around him. A laurel materializes, crowning his head.
You're practically bouncing with joy. Witnessing this in real life is beyond anything you could have imagined. It's absolutely magnificent.
Suddenly, a feeling wraps around you like a hug, it's suffocating.
You feel Eyes on you.
You glance around and find Rover staring directly at you, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. There's something in his gaze, so unnerving.
Instinctively, you feel an urge to hide, to escape those hauntingly beautiful eyes.
Without thinking, you turn and weave through the crowd, slipping into the narrow alleys of Ragunna City, your heart pounding in your chest.
After the Carnival, Rover walks into the hotel, footsteps soft on the polished floors. He’s greeted instantly.
“Mister Rover, another room has been prepared for you. Here’s the key,” the receptionist says with a practiced smile.
He smiles back, taking it without a word, fingers curling around the cool metal. Once inside his suite, the door clicks shut behind him.
Not a single thought passed through his head, just the static buzz of your voice echoing in some unreachable corner of his mind.
With a heavy exhale, he dropped down onto the edge of the bed. he sat with both feet planted wide on the ground, knees spread, forearms resting atop them.
One hand slid through his hair, slow, rough, pulling at the strands like he could rake the thoughts from his skull.
“I’m in the fucking game.”
“Have you met Cartethyia yet?”
“Montelli family… yeah, you’re supposed to team up with Carlotta. There’s this whole bit where you join the Troupe of Fools? Fight against Phrolova but make it look like a carnival performance. And then you receive the Laurel from Cartethyia, the Maiden. You meet her when she is dancing on water.”
“Umm… I don’t know much of the map of Rinascita since I just started playing and then got dumped here. Well, I already know about the port part, where Brant and his crew leave you and then you meet Zani. I think… My memory’s a little fuzzy. Wait, no! You meet Phoebe first… now that I think more about it, you meet an NPC called Cristopopo. No, um… what was his name?”
“But that was awesome! It’s such a bummer you can only use this utility in Rinascita and not in Huanglong.”
“Because I am the one behind the screen, Rover.”
Your previous conversations loop around in that big brain of Rover's. He rests his chin on his clasped hands, elbows propped on his knees, eyes glued to the wall.
The pulse in his temple beats a little too hard.
“She said I’m a character,” he whispered, eyes narrowing. “This world isn’t real.”
A sharp breath rattled into his lungs as he closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly, as if listening to some whisper only he could hear.
“She knows Huanglong. She knows Rinascita. She talks like she has known me since the beginning of my journey...”
“I love you.”
The moment it replayed in his mind, something fractured beneath the surface.
Abby burst from the Tacet mark, crackling into the air with a spark of gold light. “What if all she’s saying is nonsense?”
It pouted when Rover didn't say anything. “Rover, don’t we have to meet Carlotta, Brant and Roccia for the celebration tomorrow? Let's just sleep!”
He didn’t move. His eyes were still on the wall, still seeing the shape of your smile in the cracks of the paint.
“Abby… what’s her frequency like?”
Abby blinked, startled by the question. “Eh? I mean—it’s normal. Kind of weirdly low, actually. But it’s got this… this vibe to it. Hard to explain.”
Abby floated in slow, thoughtful circles, frowning in concentration. “It just feels…”
Rover’s gaze finally broke from the wall, softening when turning to Abby.
“Out of this world!” Abby said suddenly, snapping its little paw-fingers. “That’s it!”
He nodded. “Otherworldly,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his voice dropped. “Can you absorb her?”
Abby jerked in mid-air, appalled. “Ew! No! She’s sweet! Like aggressively sweet! I’d get indigestion.”
A slow exhale left Rover’s mouth. He stood without another word, walking to the door, movement fluid, like the weight of his thoughts no longer held him down.
“Will we go to the party tomorrow?” Abby zipped after him, in an excited spiral. “Umm..where are we going?”
Rover nods, smiling softly at Abby. “Yes we will. For now I just need some fresh air.” Abby floats beside his shoulder. “What about the strange girl?”
He pauses at the threshold, a shadow stretching long behind him from the hallway lights.
“I must keep her close.”
You weave through the streets, your steps slowing to a casual stroll despite the frantic beat of your heart.
It felt like… no, you don’t want to finish that thought.
There’s no reason to. Rover would never—he’s gentle, thoughtful, the kind of man who's Carring and always waits for your answer. He’s your Rover.
The sun has long dipped below the skyline, shadows stretching like claws across the cobblestones. The streets are lit by eerie blue lamps, that give off that weird hypnotic sound.
The occasional flutter of a curtain from open windows, or the low creak of Ragunna City's buildings, the distinct sound of people are the only thing keeping you company, You have walked towards the empty part of the city.
You’re not walking with any direction, just letting your feet take you through the winding alleys, marveling at how this place feels so much like Rome. So beautiful, so rich with history and yet, so easy to get lost in.
The wind howls through the upper levels, curling around the rooftops like a predator circling in silence.
And then it hits you, that feeling. That dreadful, skin-prickling, breath-snatching feeling. Something is watching you.
You lift your gaze, heartbeat stalling.
Two glowing purple orbs, blink into existence atop a rooftop. They shift, jump, moving roof to roof, always staying just far enough to make you doubt…
but close enough that you know they’re watching. And they’re getting closer.
No. No, no, no.
One single word cuts through every thought Run.
And so you do.
You bolt through the city, panic clawing at your throat, your shoes skidding on the stone paths as you turn corner after corner, blindly sprinting down alleyways and corners that all look the same.
The wind behind you screams. You don’t dare look back. You don’t need to. The orbs are above you now, gliding overhead like phantoms. They’re keeping up, very easily.
Your lungs are burning. Your legs ache. But still, you run.
You make a sharp turn, too sharp and slam headfirst into something solid. You stagger back, the impact jarring your senses.
And in your dazed panic you hear the person in front of you whisper your name softly, Spoken like a question, and yet it cuts through your fear like a blade. You’d know that voice anywhere.
“Rover!” you gasp, your voice a ragged mess of relief and exhaustion. “Oh thank god, Rover, I think I was being chased! There were these orbs, like, ghost things, jumping over rooftops!” You point up, frantic, your breath hitching.
But there’s nothing. Your outstretched finger trembles. You blink up at the empty rooftops.
Rover steps closer, brows furrowed with visible concern. “You didn’t return to the hotel,” he says, voice soft but serious. “I got a little worried…”
The way he says it, that makes guilt wrap tightly around your chest. You hadn’t thought about that. You’d gotten so swept up in the fear of getting away from him, but he was the only one who came to your rescue.
Before you can respond, a sharp, slightly indignant voice cuts in.
"Meh! She better have a good explanation! You wasted my precious time!"
Your heart leaps with recognition.
“Abby!!” you squeal, spotting the tiny, cat-like Echo floating indignantly beside Rover’s shoulder.
You lunge forward and scoop it into your arms before it can float away, smothering it in your excitement. “Oh my god, you're so fluffy in real life! You’re adorable! So cute!!”
“Let. Me. Go!” Abby grumbles, squirming and kicking its little limbs in protest. It floats upward with an angry wobble as soon as you loosen your grip, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.
You pout. “Ok, ok sorry! I know I didn’t ask before hugging you but I got hit with cuteness aggression! You can’t hold that against me.”
The little Echo huffs and sticks its tongue out at you without missing a beat, you stick yours right back.
Rover watches the interaction in silence, noticing how easy it is to distract you.… but that earlier intensity still lingers at the very edges of his expression.
After that long, nightmare-like night, you returned to the hotel with Rover. Morning came too soon, walking out of your room you catch a glimpse of familiar dark fabric moving past you, Your heart jumps.
Quickly, You follow him along the hallway, Rover is already walking ahead, his silhouette framed by golden light from the lobby windows.
“Rover!” you call out, voice echoing softly across the corridor.
He pauses mid-step, turning just slightly. That warm, boyish smile spreads across his face—“Good Morning.” and that breathy softness of his tone. The kind that makes your chest squeeze painfully and your legs feel weak.
It’s stupid how fast he can do that to you.
You greet him back with enthusiasm, falling into step beside him, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. It's too early to be simping again, gotta make your brain think of something else.
“You know, I was thinking... I’m going to stay in Ragunna City. Maybe get a job, settle in a bit. That way I don’t have to run into any Tacet Discords...and honestly...I really don’t want to learn how to fight.”
Rover’s eyes flick toward you as he opens the front entrance of the hotel. The door glides smoothly, and he holds it open without a word, letting you step through first.
“That’s smart thinking,” he murmurs, and for a second, you swear there’s something weightier behind his tone.
Your heart does a flip. Rover just called me smart. He thinks I’m smart! Heh!
You glance up at him, beaming, but the smile on his face has vanished. He’s watching you now. A stillness in him, like the air before lightning strikes.
“But,” he says slowly, and starts walking again, now the two of you are walking down the streets. “You told me about what happened last night… and it sounds like Ragunna City might not be as safe as you think.”
You blink at him. “Wait… you believe me?” The shock is real, raw. You hadn’t expected him to take your words seriously.
He stops walking and Turns. His golden eyes meet yours, catching the sunlight just right, there’s a glimmer in them that feels too sharp to be soft, too intense to be gentle.
“Yes, I do,” he says, voice smooth, measured. “Every single word since we met… I’ve believed you.” He leans in slightly, lowering his tone to something quieter, something softer that curls beneath your skin. “You wouldn’t have a reason to lie to me. Right?”
There’s no threat in his voice. None at all. Only kindness. Too much kindness. It floods over you, sweet and heavy. You gulp.
But then you see it. That unwavering focus in his eyes. Like he’s not just hearing you but memorizing every syllable, and every feature of yours.
Still, your smile returns, hesitant but hopeful. He believed you, About the ghost. You weren’t crazy, and somehow that felt like everything.
“Yep! I was serious about that.” you say, a little breathless. “Thank you.”
Right then, his terminal buzzes.
But Rover doesn’t reach for it immediately, His eyes linger on you, longer than necessary, longer than what should be polite. like the interruption has offended him somehow.
Only when the buzzing repeats does he finally pick it up.
“Were you awake, Rover? I trust you had a restful sleep?” a woman’s voice purrs from the other end.
You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the squeal building in your throat, eyes going wide. Oh my god. It's Carlotta! This is it! This is where he goes to meet with Brant, Roccia. You're practically vibrating with excitement, quietly giggling into your hand like a lovesick person.
“Psst! What are you giggling about!?” a tiny voice snaps beside you.
You blink, turn your head and flinch. “Abby!? When did you get out of Rover’s Tacet mark? You’re still weak, you shouldn’t be out!”
Abby floats right into your face, squinting suspiciously. “You’re weird. You know things only me and Rover should know. I’m watching you.” It squints harder, doing the two fingers motion from its eyes to yours, then promptly zips back into Rover’s Tacet mark like a gremlin vanishing into shadow.
The call ends with a soft beep.
Rover turns back to you, but there’s something unreadable in his gaze, like he’s thinking too much. Or not thinking at all. “Don’t mind Abby,” he says. “Would you like to come with me?”
You blink. “Where?”
He raises an eyebrow, as his lips quirk up slightly. “You already know the answer. So why ask?”
You huff, flustered, watching as Rover turns his back to you, walking ahead with a casual confidence. Like he already knows you’ll follow.
The space you arrive in is open and tastefully decorated, big plush couches arranged around a low table, soft lighting casting warm glows over the area.
And your breath catches.
Because there they are—Brant, Carlotta, and Roccia. In the flesh. Living, breathing, talking. Not just pixels or dialogue boxes. You practically light up, your eyes going wide and sparkling like you’ve stepped into a dream made real.
You barely register the soft click of Rover’s boots behind you.
He watches you. Watches the way your mouth parts just a little in awe, the way your body angles forward in excitement.
He drinks in every detail like he’s parched...
but it’s not enough. Because for the first time since you met… you’re not looking at him.
You’re looking at them.
And he doesn’t like it.
Not one bit.
There’s a weight in his chest, something sharp and unfamiliar. A prickling tightness blooming behind his ribs like thorns.
He clears his throat softly, a warning disguised in civility.
You blink, glancing back at him. He’s smiling But something in his eyes is off.
Rover gestures toward the trio and some other people from the troop of fools with a tilt of his head, silently urging you forward. You step ahead with a nervous bounce, and he trails just behind you.
His eyes never leave you.
Not even for a second.
“Raise your glasses! Shout it loud, friends! To us! To the carneval! And to our very own Laureate!” Brant cheered, his voice a bit too loud and his steps more than a little wobbly. He looked absolutely wasted, swaying on his feet as he raised his drink high into the air with a proud grin.
You paused, standing just a few feet away from him, trying not to let your expression reveal the internal screeching happening inside your head. Rover stepped forward slightly, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours. “Please, stop,” he murmured. “You’re making me feel embarrassed.”
Brant gave Rover a sloppy, closed-eyed smile, completely unbothered by the scolding. Then his gaze shifted and landed on you and he lit up like a firework. “Oh! The Laureate's Maiden!” he exclaimed, voice cracking with excitement as he stumbled a little. “You were the one Rover left so early for, aren't you?”
He extended his drink toward you in a cheerful toast, and you froze. Your heart practically stuttered at the title, ‘Laureate’s Maiden.’ The words echoed in your mind like a prophecy.
Rover said nothing. He only lifted a hand to his forehead while shaking his head.
Carlotta’s sharp, observant eyes flicked toward you in curiosity. Meanwhile, Roccia leaned in toward her and whispered, “He’s drunk again,” before offering you a small, apologetic smile, in her shy demeanor.
You were losing your goddamn mind.
You stood there, barely holding it together, silently screaming. You were watching Brant be an absolute mess, Roccia being adorable, and Carlotta giving you the “I see you” stare. And then it hit you again how real everything is.
Your inner fangirl was one step away from combusting.
You felt it building up—your excitement almost boiling over your lips.
A hand wrapped around your wrist.
Your head snapped up, eyes locking with Rover’s. His face didn’t betray much, but the look in his golden eyes was enough—sharp, steady, and entirely too aware of what was happening inside you.
Somehow, he knew.
That you were about to slip, about to fangirl out loud and shatter the whole illusion. You didn’t even get how, but he caught it. As if he was tuned to your every breath.
You swallowed your squeal and took a deep, steadying breath. Then gave him a small, sheepish nod.
But he didn’t let go of your wrist and you could feel it in the pressure of his touch, the way he refused to release you.
Carlotta’s gaze softened, her attention drifting from Rover’s hand on you to your expression.
She smiled, and looked down for a moment, then patted the empty space beside her on the couch. It wasn’t direct, no announcement or fanfare, but the invitation was clear in her casual, elegant way. Just a subtle gesture, as if saying; Come sit. Let’s talk. You’re welcome here.
Carlotta rose gracefully, lifting her glass with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. “A toast, everyone!” she called, her voice ringing clear across the space. “drink freely and celebrate without restraint—everything’s on me.”
A ripple of cheers followed, glasses raised, laughter blooming in the air like fireworks.
You giggled to yourself, heart warm, eyes sparkling as the atmosphere buzzed around you. Slipping from Rover’s grasp—fingers parting with a reluctant drag—you moved to sit beside Carlotta on the plush sofa, feeling a soft thrill.
Carlotta turned to you, her expression calm but kind. “Welcome,” she said smoothly, folding one leg over the other. “You’re Rover’s special person. You’ll be treated as such.”
Your chest gave a small, involuntary flutter. You blinked at her, caught off guard by her directness. “Ah—Thank you! Um… but I don’t know about being special…” Your voice trailed into a mumble as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks heating. “I want to be, though…”
Carlotta tilted her head, repeating your words with an airy lilt, “You’re not?” a flicker of relief, so subtle it almost slipped past you.
Before you could open your mouth and spill something mortifying —your unfiltered thoughts like, ‘Rover's fingers felt like silk ropes and I think I stopped breathing for three seconds’—a sudden shift interrupted.
Rover moved, Just strode forward and sat himself directly between you and Carlotta, his body sliding into the space. His shoulder pressed lightly against yours, and you had no choice but to scoot slightly to the side—caught off guard by the smoothness of the maneuver.
Carlotta blinked in mild surprise, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Your own eyes widened too. The tension was brief but palpable, like the quiet before a lightning strike.
Carlotta adjusted her posture with ease and offered no protest. She simply redirected the flow of conversation, her tone shifting into something professional as she began discussing details about the event.
Rover and Carlotta kept talking, their tones low and deliberate as Roccia chimed in now and then. You stayed quiet, content to observe. but the heat at your side was impossible to ignore.
Rover’s leg brushed against yours, now settled there, beside yours. His hand settled near his knee, close enough that you felt the weight of it, even without touch. There was less to no distance between you two.
Whatever that gesture meant, it was received. Even the Order’s acolyte, who was spying from afar noticed it.
No one would approach you. Not now. Not with him right there.
It would be reported to Primus, an unexpected detail they’d soon turn into a calculated advantage.
You’re alone again.
The wind cuts soft against your skin as you stand on the balcony—that balcony. The one Rover brought you to the cave opened up into a place, Order's Cathedral.
He got summoned by the Primus. Some urgent request, diplomatic bullshit. You didn’t want to go inside. So you told him you’d wait here—where it all began. Where you both first touched Regunna’s sky.
The elevator hums behind you.
Ding.
“Excuse me, Miss. Are you with Rover?”
You blink, caught mid-thought. When you turn, you find an acolyte standing just a few feet away, the fountain splashing steadily behind him.
“Yes?” you say slowly, confused. Why the hell is one of them talking to you?
“With the Primus’ request, we’d like to give you a tour of the Order’s wildlife.”
Huuuh!?
You stare at him, deadpan. “Does Rover know about this?”
He doesn’t answer, Instead, his hand appears from behind his back, holding out a bouquet. A beautiful one. Flowers in shades that don’t exist in Regunna’s natural palette, arranged like a bribe wrapped in silk.
“For you, my lady,” he says with a thin smile. “A gift from the Primus. As a welcome.”
Huuuuuuuhhhhh?!
You feel your social anxiety flare like a damn solar flare. You grab the bouquet on instinct just to make this weirdo stop looking at you. The scent hits you immediately—sweet, heady, with something underneath, Faint and Strange.
Rot?
No. It’s not bad. Just…
“Would you please follow me?”
You don’t want to.
You don’t want to.
You want to ask more questions. Call Rover. Push this guy into the railing and run. But your body… it’s moving. Feet light, legs slow, floating forward.
The bouquet trembles in your hands.
Your throat tightens. “Ro...ver…” you try, but your mouth opens soundlessly. Not a whisper, not a wheeze. Nothing.
Inside, you’re screaming. You are begging for your voice. For control of your body.
Help me.
But all you can do is follow.
You’re in a field now.
Wide, open, The sky is dimmer here. Or maybe you’re imagining it. You blink—your vision sharpens. The man’s walking away, saying nothing. His silhouette fades into the distant treeline like he was never there.
And just like that, you drop the bouquet.
It hits the ground with a soft thump, and suddenly—it’s like you can breathe again. Like some part of your soul just clawed its way back into your chest.
Your hands shake.
“That bastard,” you hiss, furious. You want to run back, grab someone—anyone—by the collar and scream at them, What the fuck was that?!
But… who would believe you?
Then a voice, warm and steady, echoes in your memory.
“Every single word since we met… I’ve believed you.”
Rover.
Your breath hitches. Yeah. He would believe you.
But first, you need to get the hell out of here.
You spin around, scanning the field. You don’t even know where you are. There’s grass. Rocks. A distant shimmer of trees. You have no idea which way is back to the city. And of course, the second you realize how alone you are, The air shifts.
It gets cold. And then you hear it. Skittering. Growling. Clicking. Then, like stars in a nightmare sky, they appear—one by one. Tacet Discords...At least twenty of them.
All shapes. All sizes. Some teddy bear like. Some Grotesque silhouettes against the horizon—elongated limbs, blinking eyes, wet jaws, razor-wings.
The air hums with primal danger.
Your heart drops straight into your gut.
“Nonononono! fuck me sideways...” you breathe, taking a shaky step back.
Then they move, Fast. All at once. You run.
There’s no plan. No direction. Just sheer, animal panic. You dodge a spiked tail that slams into the ground where you stood a second ago. The impact makes the earth tremble, and you scream—loud, raw.
Your luck is absolute shit—no, scratch that, it's cosmically cursed. You were having such a good time.
And now? Thrown into this mess.
Funny how things go to hell the moment Rover isn’t by your side. When he’s around, your luck feels blessed, like the universe has your back. The second he’s gone? Boom—chaos and now apparently a welcoming bouquet laced with “fuck-you” energy.
Branches whip at your arms as you dive into whatever passes for cover here—rocks, shallow dips, ruins of something ancient and forgotten. You keep going, because stopping means dying.
You trip once. Twice. A claw nearly catches your ankle. You don’t look back.
Your legs burn. Your lungs are begging for mercy.
Your brain is just screaming: You’re going to die here.
You’re not built for this. You never trained. You’re not a Resonator. You don’t belong in the middle of a Tacet Discord bloodbath.
All you have is your decent sense of sarcasm, and what you hope is enough spite to fuel your survival.
“Great!” you shout breathlessly. “This is fantastic! You guys didn't even ask me on a date and now I’m on the fucking menu?!”
A Tacet Discord shrieks behind you in response. You scream back, middle finger raised in pure survival-mode insanity.
They’re everywhere. Every direction you turn..You can't outrun them. You know that.
But you’ll damn well try.
Because dying like this—alone, devoured in the dirt like trash?
Not on your list of acceptable Tuesday activities, wait is it Tuesday here? Nevermind.
And if you’re going down... at least one of these freaks is gonna have indigestion afterward.
The air is thick with dread.
Your legs are jelly, lungs burning, and the cacophony of Tacet Discords closing in is deafening. Each breath feels like a countdown to oblivion.
Suddenly, a blinding light pierces the gloom.
A shockwave erupts, sending Tacet Discords flying like ragdolls. The ground trembles beneath you, and for a moment, the world holds its breath.
From the epicenter of the blast, a figure emerges—Rover.
But this isn't the Rover you know. His eyes blaze with an otherworldly light, and an aura of raw power radiates from him. The very air around him seems to bend, acknowledging his dominance.
He moves with lethal grace, each step purposeful. With a mere gesture, he summons ethereal weapons, dispatching Tacet Discords with surgical precision. The creatures, once so terrifying, have become his playthings.
His eyes glow—brighter than the stars, colder than space.
The frequency thickens around him like a cloak of shadows alive and hungry. His Spectro resonance still hums at the core, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat like a ticking bomb.
In a blur of movement, Rover twists—hand slicing the TDs clean and efficiently, like a surgeon cutting through rotten flesh.
More surround him. A pulse of Havoc ignites—Dark Surge expanding. He warps forward, vanishing for a half second—then reappears behind them mid-spin, hurling his scythe from both hands. The Tacet Discords shudder before collapsing, torsos sliced clean.
You blink—and two more Tacet Discords have already fallen. You can’t even see how he did it.
You sigh in relief but damn it, he looks terrifyingly hot. That dark gleam in his eyes, the effortless precision, the sheer dominance in every move…
Yeah, you’re shaken, but a part of you? Still hopelessly down bad.
The adrenaline drains from your body like a snapped string. You can finally let go, but your limbs tremble uncontrollably. Now that the fear has passed, your body finally realizes just how close you came to dying.
A sharp crunch pulls your attention up.
Rover steps forward, walking toward your crouched form with slow, steady steps. The ground doesn’t quake beneath him anymore, and that unbearable frequency that had screamed around him moments ago has vanished. The pressure lifts.
Your Rover is back.
You wrap your arms tightly around yourself, heart pounding like a war drum as you watch him approach. He crouches in front of you, and for a moment, it’s like déjà vu—just like when you first met. That same soft smile curves his lips, like the battlefield around you doesn’t exist.
He extends a hand.
That’s it. You can’t hold it in anymore.
Tears spill over your cheeks—hot, heavy, unstoppable. The sob rips from your throat before you can even stop it. You were going to die. You were so close to being torn apart and—
You don’t even register him moving until his arms are around you, pulling you into a firm, grounding hug.
You bury your face in his chest, fists clutching the undershirt beneath his jacket like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.
One of his hands moves slowly over your back, tracing calming circles. The other cradles the back of your head gently, like you’re fragile glass and he’s terrified of cracking you.
And in that moment, you feel safe. Safe like never before. Not because the danger is gone.
But because he is here.
Your sobs have finally faded to sniffles. You rub your puffy eyes, shifting just a little away from his chest but still firmly in his embrace.
“I actually thought I was going to die,” you mutter, voice scratchy. “Like! I know I broke my personal record of staying alive for a week, which is amazing, but I still didn’t wanna die, you know?”
Rover hums softly, his gloved fingers gently threading through your hair. The motion is rhythmic, soothing. “You’re still alive,” he says, voice calm and warm. “See?” And there it is, that smile. Soft. Sweet. Heart-melting.
You’d fight twenty more Tacet Discords for that smile. Urm… hide behind him while he fights.
“Yeah… thanks to you,” you reply, trying to gently pry yourself from his hold.
Keyword: try.
His arms don’t budge.
“Rover… I think I’m okay now,” you laugh awkwardly. “We can head back to the city?”
You’re not sure why it came out as a question but somehow, when it comes to him, you feel like you need permission to even breathe.
Rover finally nods and lets go, though his eyes linger on you, scanning, calculating, checking every tiny tremble in your limbs.
You stand beside him, brushing dust off yourself as he steps ahead, leading the way. The silence is easy… until he speaks, like it’s casual small talk.
“I met with Primus. Can you guess what happened?”
He’s smiling, but... something’s off. You glance down and see his fists clenched so tight.
“Oh yeah!” you perk up, totally missing the tension. “I remember that quest—kind of. Doesn’t he like, talk in riddles about ‘The Maiden’ or whatever?”
You ramble, voice light and airy now, blissfully unaware that your words aren’t answering his question so much as distracting yourself.
“Mostly accurate, but he mentioned you as well. And threatened me, indirectly.”
You don’t notice how Rover’s gentle tone shifts—how frustration slips into the spaces between his words, how tightly he’s reining it in.
“Wait! Wait! Wait, what?! Am I ruining the plot?!” you blurt, wide-eyed. “No way! I don’t wanna get involved, nope. Rover, can you like—send me to Jinzhou? That place is super peaceful right now and it’d be perfect for me to start a new life in. Like then I won't have acolytes luring me into a place filled with Tds...”
Rover stops walking. There’s so much in your words that bugs him. The way you talk about leaving like it’s that simple...like he could ever let you go.
“So,” he mutters, as if confirming something to himself, “that’s what happened…”
Then louder, firm enough to cut through your spiral. “It’s okay. Nothing will happen to you.”
And he says it with such unshakable certainty, it doesn’t feel like reassurance, it feels like a threat to the universe itself. this is his vow to you.
You exhale. “Thank you…” The walk continues, and there’s a light brush of Rover’s hand against yours.
You hesitate, then test it, fingers creeping toward his, shy and slow. Like you’re asking a question without words.
And rather quickly, Rover answers.
He intertwines his fingers with yours, firm and grounding. No hesitation. Just his hand, holding yours, like he’s always meant to.
You grin to yourself, giggling inwardly like a little gremlin. Heheh, holding hands before marriage. How scandalous.
Well, you muse dramatically, we’ve held hands before… but this is different. This is sacred. Because I initiated it.
You beam with inner pride, your silly little heart puffing. Because yes, this moment matters. Because yes, you’re holding your husband’s hand.
Husband as in: you married him in your daydreams. Details, details.
As you and Rover entered Ragunna City again, you were immediately met with Carlotta. it seemed like she had been waiting for the two of you.
“Rover!” she called out, striding toward you both. Her expression brightened, then faltered the moment her gaze landed on you. Concern twisted across her face like a storm cloud. “Are you okay?! My goodness...”
“It was the Order,” Rover replied, his tone calm but clipped. Then, turning to Carlotta, he made a quiet request—asking for her help. His eyes found yours again. “I need to take care of something. Carlotta can be trusted, don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Your hands were still interlocked—his grip firm, grounding. Then, with a final squeeze, he let go and walked away, his figure disappearing like a tether snapping loose.
You turned to Carlotta, awkwardly brushing back your disheveled hair. “Um… sorry for how I look? I feel like I offended you somehow.”
Carlotta blinked, clearly startled. “No, no! Please, be at ease. As I said before—Rover’s special person will be treated with the utmost care and respect. Please, follow me.”
She led you to her estate and provided a guest room stocked with fresh clothes. After a soothing shower and a change into soft, clean fabric, you collapsed into the bed like a soul exorcised of fatigue.
It wasn’t long before a gentle knock on the door pulled you from your nap. “Come in!”
Carlotta entered, a composed smile on her face, followed by a butler carrying a silver tray. Your mouth practically watered on reflex. The far end of the room revealed a small table and chairs. The butler wordlessly placed the tray down and exited with the elegance of a ghost. Carlotta gestured for you to sit with her, settling into one of the chairs with regal ease.
You took the seat across from her, and she offered you a genuine smile. “Don’t mind me. Please, dig in.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. The food was warm and familiar, like a safety blanket in edible form.
Finally relaxed, your guard temporarily down, you decided to bring up the thought that had been gnawing at your mind.
“So, I was thinking of going to Jinzhou. You know, that city in Huanglong...”
Carlotta tilted her head with interest, eyes glinting. “May I ask why?”
“I don’t feel safe in Ragunna City after the...” you hesitated, poking at your food, “You know... and Jinzhou is, like, very peaceful right now. A perfect place to not get attacked by anything!”
Carlotta nodded, leaning back and folding one leg over the other with the poise of a queen. “I can help you with that. Arrange transportation. I’ll make sure you arrive safely and are well taken care of once you’re inside the city.”
You gasped, hand pressed to your chest dramatically. “Omg! You would do that? Thank you so much!”
Carlotta nodded, her smile never faltering but her eyes held something calculating beneath the warmth. Of course, she had her own reasons. She was a woman of business, after all. And every investment had its return.
Carlotta had escorted you back to the hotel after receiving a message from Rover—he wouldn't be able to pick you up himself. You didn’t think much of it. Maybe he got caught up in something.
You made small talk with Carlotta.
Once you reached the hotel entrance, you turned to her with a small smile.
“Thanks... for walking with me. And for, well, everything,” you murmured, scratching your cheek awkwardly.
Carlotta smiled, her gaze softening. “Of course. Take care of yourself.”
You waved her goodbye, entering the building and making your way up the stairs, shoes clicking softly against the polished floor. As you reached your floor, something odd caught your eye. You noticed a door, just beside yours, was slightly ajar.
Curiosity won over common sense, and like the nosy little gremlin you were, you peeked.
And immediately regretted it. Who are you lying to? You didn't regret it a slightest bit.
Rover stood inside, his back to you, just as he was taking off his jacket. Then came the gloves, tossed onto a nearby chair. The strap across his chest followed, sliding off in one smooth motion. Then he reached for the hem of his shirt. That clingy, perfectly-fitted grey undershirt. He was halfway through tugging it off when your soul panicked.
You panicked, raising your fist and knocking loudly. Your eyes widened. Your cheeks caught fire.
Rover turned his head slightly, catching you in the corner of his eye, shirt now caught at his ribs, he lets go of it.
Your face flushed immediately.
He looked unfairly good like this—hair slightly tousled, collarbone peeking out, that necklace glinting against his skin like a silent warning.
“Oh, you’re back... safe and sound.” he said, voice dipped in honeyed relief. His eyes roamed over you, then lingered just a second too long. “Good.”
You cleared your throat and stepped inside like a guilty cat caught knocking over a vase. “I—uh—y-yeah, I just—sorry, I didn’t mean to peek or anything, I just—your door—it was open and—uh—” You were absolutely malfunctioning. “Your shirt is committing war crimes.”
Rover chuckled softly and didn’t press it. His smile was warm, and yet something about it felt strained, like there was static just under the surface. As he turned fully, the soft lighting dancing across his face, the shirt clinging to his muscles.
You cleared your throat, You sat down on the arm of a chair, legs swinging slightly. You figured now was a good time to talk. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you... about something.”
He tilted his head, eyebrows lifting as he leaned against the table. “I’m listening.”
“So… I kinda had a conversation with Carlotta while I was stuffing my face with food. And, well…” you paused, watching his hands still, You smiled awkwardly. “So... I talked to Carlotta. And she said she could help me get to Jinzhou. You know, because Ragunna’s not exactly ‘let’s settle down and bake cookies’ levels of safe.”
Rover’s smile didn’t vanish—it simply froze, like a painted expression.
“Oh?” he said, with an almost imperceptible pause.
His tone stayed even. “And why would you want to go there?”
“Like I told you before..” You shrugged. “I don’t feel safe here. I mean, what happened in the field? That’s not something I want a round two of. And Jinzhou's got, like… zen energy. I can heal a bit. And I think... I need that. I think I’d feel better there. You could come visit too, of course.” You grinned at him, clearly trying to keep the conversation light, because the strange, tense atmosphere is becoming suffocating.
“I see,” Rover said softly. He took a step closer. “Leaving is the right choice?”
“I mean… yeah?” you answered with a sheepish grin. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d miss you. A lot. You’re like the world’s best emotional support. Like—seriously. Who gave you permission to look that good covered in dust?”
That got a small laugh out of him but the tension didn’t fade. His fingers flexed slightly at his side.
Then your eyes caught something, on the edge of his undershirt sleeve, just beneath the fabric...
Your heart jumped, Blood. A faint, dark smear near the hem of his shirt.
Your lightheartedness fizzled. “Wait… are you hurt?” You stood, frowning. “Did something happen?”
Rover tilted his head, then looked down like he’d forgotten the evidence on him. “No,” he said quickly. “Not my blood.”
That did not make it better. Not his? You blinked. “Then whose—?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said with a gentle smile, the kind that felt... wrong now. “You’re safe. That’s what matters.”
That strange calm in his voice made your skin crawl in the oddest way. You tried to shake it off. Your body stiffened instinctively.
After a pause, he looked at you again—this time softer, almost vulnerable.
“Will you stay?”
You hesitated. He waited. You shook your head slowly. “No. I mean, I care about you, and I have made that clear, I guess very clear… but I just don’t want to stay here anymore. It doesn’t feel right. I need space. Maybe you can come visit me in Jinzhou when you get a break or something?”
You smiled gently and stepped toward the door.
But it shut before you could touch the handle.
A hand pressed flat against the wood in front of you, and heat rushed down your spine. Rover was behind you now, close enough that you felt the weight of his presence in your bones.
“That,” he whispered, voice no longer gentle but absolute, “is not an option.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
You turned your head slightly, only to find his face right there, cheek against your hair, mouth near your ear.
“I didn’t believe you at first,” he began, voice barely above a whisper. “When you said all those things. About me. About this world. I thought you were just being poetic. But I listened. Every word. Every little slip. You’ve known me since the beginning, haven’t you?”
You slowly turned to face him. His eyes weren’t wide with madness. No. They were too calm. Too lucid. And that was so much worse. You backed up slightly but there was nowhere to go, Your back pressing against the door.
“You talk like you’ve always known me. From the beginning of my journey. Every choice I’ve made...you understand it before I even speak…”
He exhaled a laugh—short, humorless. “I started noticing things after I met you. Things I shouldn’t notice. The way the world shifts around us. The way time bends. The way... none of it feels real anymore.”
You blinked. “What are you talking about—?”
“I see it now,” he breathed. “The repetition. The scripted kindness. The way people pause just long enough for you to speak. I am in a story. I wholeheartedly believe you now...And you…”
He leans closer, his elbow bending, caging you gently between him and the door.
“You are the only unpredictable thing in this world. The only one who looks at me like I’m more than lines of code. The only one that feels real. Because you are the only one anchoring me to the real world.”
You could hear the tremble building under his voice, like a crack in the earth before the quake.
“I started wondering—what am I? A character in a story? A game? Made for people’s amusement?”
His voice broke, briefly. “Am I real, or just code wrapped in skin?”
You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat.
“You’re the only thing that makes sense now,” he continued. “You’re the only one who doesn’t glitch. The only one who talks like she’s seen me.”
“Rover—”
“No. Listen. Do you understand what that means?” His hand cupped your cheek—soft, reverent, yet trembling with obsession barely restrained. “You are my anchor. Without you, this world dissolves. Without you, I become... just another piece of fiction.”
His forehead pressed against yours.
“I don’t want to forget how your voice sounds. I don’t want to wake up and realize I imagined you. I don't want to go back to a loop where you never existed.”
You felt his breath tremble against your lips.
“I need to know that I’m not just a story you’ll get tired of.”
Your heart thundered in your chest—part fear, part something far too complicated to name.
“I fucked up...” you whisper to yourself, barely audible.
Rover smiles.
That soft, puppy-like smile. The kind that used to melt your heart, the kind that once made you believe he could never hurt you. The kind that now feels like a mask.
He steps away for a moment—only to hook his fingers around your wrist with a gentle tug, pulling you back. You stumble, breath catching, and the back of your knees meets the edge of the bed with a muted thud.
“I notice everything about you,” he murmurs. “The way you dote on me... those little moments? They don’t go unnoticed.”
He extends his hand—like he always has. From the moment you met until now, it has always been there, waiting. Waiting for you to take it.
And you always did. With no hesitation. Sometimes even with joy.
But now...
Now you hesitate.
His hair is slightly disheveled, a few strands falling into his eyes. There’s a faint smear of blood at the hem of his grey shirt—crimson staining cotton like paint across canvas. When he tilts his head, the necklace he always wears catches the light, swinging like a pendulum.
Even now, in this moment, he looks so...Beautiful. Unreal.
“Don’t you want to be my wife?” His voice is low, coaxing. “Why hesitate now...?”
He says your name like a lover's prayer. Or a spell. Like the idea of you slipping away is unbearable. And it makes you ache to take his hand again.
“You said you loved me. Remember?”
His eyes widen. The desperation in them is stark, unhidden, raw. Wild. Like a man teetering on the edge of a cliff and calling it faith. Like falling is a choice... and dragging you down with him is a promise.
Then, in a voice so quiet it makes your stomach twist.
“So prove it.”
Your breath stutters. He was patient. He gave you your space, didn’t he? Gave you time to think. To breathe. He waited...
But patience is fragile.
And even if you run, it won’t matter. he’s the main character of this world. He knows that. he knows this world bends to him.
You can’t escape.
Everyone loves him, adores him. They always will. He’ll use that love, twist it into a cage so soft you won’t even know you’re inside it.
He sees it now, your fear. Sees the way your body tenses like a trembling leaf. He exhales, slow and measured, and steps into your space until there’s nothing left between you.
“Jinzhou,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word. “You want to go there?”
You nod quickly, reflexively. Any wrong move could shift the moment. Could turn gentleness into something else entirely.
His hands lift, hovering in the air, waiting, Would you flinch? He would never do something that would push him away from you.
But you don’t flinch. You don’t move.
So he cups your cheeks with such tenderness it makes your skin crawl.
“There,” he whispers. “Relax. You can go to Jinzhou. I won’t stop you.”
Because this world already belongs to me. I don’t need to lock you up to keep you.
You shiver. His voice is calm, but his eyes... those eyes aren’t the ones you fell in love with. They’re deeper now, darker, bottomless pits that don’t reflect light, only swallow it.
“Don’t worry,” he soothes, fingers brushing along your jaw. “You’re safe. I’ll make sure of that.”
And you nod.
You lean into his touch because, in this world—whether you like it or not—he’s the only one who can protect you. The only one who won’t let you go.
cw; gender neutral! reader, sfw with a sprinkle of winkwink, basically just a smooch from qiuyuan aha
For a man without eyesight, QIUYUAN can do a lot of things.
He can pierce the hearts of his enemies with ease, cook meals without batting a lid, discern both familiar and unfamiliar surroundings in an instant, read your emotions better than any man with two working eyes could ever hope to — you get the gist of it. He fares just like any other person.
You wouldn’t have known he was blind, really, not unless you looked close. Not unless curiosity got the better of you and you finally asked about his eyes — those elusive, cloudy things that never seemed to look directly at you, no matter how hard you tried to catch them.
(“What? You’re telling me you’ve been blind this whole time?”
He does not reply.
You were about to ask how a man who cannot see could cultivate such precise swordsmanship, until you remember something from a distant past.
“But you mentioned I had a fair face during our first meeting.”
He does not elaborate.
“... You have no sight and now you can’t speak?”
He does not make an excuse.)
And in that manner, you truly think it is strange.
For all his practiced, almost perfect ways of adapting to a life of a blind man, for all the subtle precision of his movements and the effortless grace that makes everyone else look clumsy — Qiuyuan always, always, seems to forget where your lips are each time he leans in to humor you with a kiss.
You like to think you know enough that you are not oblivious. In fact, you are well aware of how his forte functions in relation to his surroundings, having been… loved a lot… by him, yet this does not placate your confusion.
Qiuyuan is sharp and concise in everything he does. He never wastes time. He never rushes either. Every movement of his is deliberate, efficient. Most details are trivial to him; he only cares about the things that matter to wandering swordsmen — sharpening their blades, bathing in rivers, mending their coats by the firelight. He may notice everything, even the things in between, yet very rarely does he make them his business.
(Thinking about it, you recall the time he mentioned he liked the frequencies of your bold personality, that or it was the smell of your virtues. What did he mean by this?)
All in all, why would kissing you be any different?
If anything, he seems to take his time with it — tracing the ridge of your eyebrows, brushing the faint frown between them, mapping the moles scattered across your cheeks and neck as if they were constellations he needed to memorize. His fingers trail the bridge of your nose, linger at your lashes, circle your cheekbones in slow, unhurried motion, before resting the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip.
Your entire being feels like it’s on fire.
Qiuyuan is sharp and concise. He never wastes time. So what is he doing?
“Your thoughts,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that slides under your skin. “I sense chaos within it. Do you want to share?”
His eyes — that muted gray, misty and distant, as if trapped in a perpetual haze — are directed right at you. And for some reason, it's now you who can’t maintain eye contact. You look everywhere but him, at the stars stitched into the sky, at the restless trees swaying with the wind — anything to forget the feeling of the feather-light pressure of his thumb on your lip.
“D-don’t look at me like that.” You stutter against your will.
“I can’t see, nor look,” he replies evenly. “I am simply facing where a threat looms.”
Like lightning, your eyes are on him immediately, raising a brow at him. “What threat?”
He chuckles, rare and quiet, and your stomach flips at the sound. “That’s what it takes for you to look at me. Interesting.”
You glare, half annoyed, half flustered. “Qiuyuan, what are you trying to say?”
“Your temperament is truly a wonder I can never hope to comprehend,” he dismisses your glare like he always does — calmly, playfully, infuriatingly — and leans closer still. His breath ghosts across your cheek. “Do you not like it when I let my hands wander?”
He already knows what's bothering you. Of course he does.
Yet that tone teasing, deliberate — to make innuendos is not like him. Againt your better judgement, it sends heat curling through your chest, fueling the warmth of your face. Still, you force yourself to stay on track, to pretend you’re not already melting under his touch.
(You’d let him do anything he wanted to do to you, you realize with a dangerous clarity.)
“You always touch my face like that before you kiss me,” you say quietly. “Why is that?”
He pauses. Not long, but long enough for you to feel the shift in the air between you.
“Back when we first met, I did not lie when I called your face fair.”
You blink, unsure whether to laugh or fall apart. He senses your confusion, and treads further.
“Is it not right for me to appreciate it,” he adds, “now that we are much closer?”
When he leans in again, it is slow and unhurried. The air grows still, heavy with something unspoken. You can feel the warmth of him, close enough that your breaths tangle in the space between.
His hand moves slightly, fingers brushing against your jaw, lingering like a phantom.
The rest happens somewhere between thought and sensation. A shift forward, the briefest contact, so light you might have imagined it — and then stillness, a silence that hums louder than any sound could.
You do not move. Neither does he. And yet something in you has already unraveled.
For a man without eyesight, Qiuyuan can do a lot of things.
He can fight, cook, survive — even sense the smallest flicker of thought that crosses your mind.
But kissing you into a puddle of madness?
That, you think faintly, as his fingers slide into your hair and his lips tilt into a small, all-knowing smile against yours — might just be your favorite of all.
early in a relationship with a sudden needy and touchy lighter?🥺
I told myself I'd get around to writing this after studying for exams and that was... TWO WEEKS AGO!?? WHOOPSIE!!!
Surprise Visit - Lighter x gn!Reader
Summary -> 700 words. Cute little wake up to a clingy Lighter.
Warnings -> Not proofread. Written on little sleep.
A/N -> I am so sorry this took so long to write. I'm an engineering major and had five exams in two weeks (I did good on all of them tho)
Lighter is a hard man to get close to. There are very few people he let closer than just an arms length away, like a feral alley cat. You had practically snuck your way in through his defenses with a few well placed pushes from Ceaser and one too many times Burnice “accidentally” left you two alone. It worked like a charm, of course, and before you knew it Lighter was taking you out on motorcycle rides under the stars, riding into New Eridu just to grab a coffee with you, and even upgrading his phone just so he could text you more consistently.
You stirred awake at an hour far too early only to see a text from Lighter gracing your phone screen.
Lighter <3: “Busy today?”
Rolling over lazily to snatch your phone off of the nightstand, you squint at the light before tapping a quick reply.
You: “It’s too early to think but I’m pretty sure I’m free. What’s up?”
Lighter <3: “Can I come spend time with you?”
You thought for a moment. This was the third time this week he had asked to come to New Eridu. First it was wanting to rent a new movie from Random Play, then it was wanting to walk around around the river, and now it looks like he doesn’t even have an excuse.
You: “Of course :)”
Shortly after sending the text, you fell back asleep, wanting to sleep until at least the sun came up. Your dream was disjointed and confusing, your body hot and uncomfortable when you woke up. You toss the blanket off of your shoulders clumsily, fist colliding with something.
“Ow…”
You suddenly jolt awake, looking over. “Lighter? Why…. How?”
“You didn’t answer the door. I thought I’d let myself in.” He rubs his nose where you had hit him.
“The door was locked.”
“I let myself in.”
“You don’t have a key.”
“I let myself in.”
“How?” You smile as you prop yourself up on your elbow, looking at the way he was laying on his back, an attempted respectful distance between you two. You broken the distance and reached out to touch his nose, making sure you didn’t actually do damage when you accidentally punched him.
Lighter melted under the touch, like a cat in the middle of a sunbeam. “I didn’t break anything, I promise.”
“Do I need to upgrade my locks?” You guide him to roll on his side so the bright light of the sun was behind him, highlighting his body in an almost angelic way.
“Oh absolutely. Anyone with a cheap lockpick set can get in.” He drops his voice to a tone, not wanting to disturb the bubble of comfort around the two of you.
A comfortable moment of silence hangs in the air, Lighter looking at you with uncharacteristicly soft eyes, like you were the most precious thing he had.
“When you asked to hang out, I didn’t know you meant as soon as I woke up. What are you running from, Lorenz?” You tease as you trace a finger down his jaw, feeling he had shaved his stubble off right before coming over.
Lighter took your hand and kissed the pads of your fingers. “I’m not running from anything. I’m running towards you…”
He gives that genuine look, his guard almost entirely let down at this point. The words were borrowed, of course, probably from a book Ceaser was reading, but the fact he said it counted for a lot in your heart.
“You’re hopeless.” You scoff and bring the blanket around the both of you, no longer caring how warm you felt.
“You like it.” Lighter immediately capitalizes on the closeness, holding you tightly against his chest, hiding his face in your hair.
“I do… Quick little nap and then breakfast at the cafe?”
“Sounds perfect.”
**********
The ‘quick little nap’ turned into a several hour long nap, both of you feeling too safe and comfortable to even think about getting up. When you finally woke up for the last time, you were now on your back, Lighter’s head on your chest, the rest of his body draped over yours, arms tight around your stomach. You were trapped.
“Lighter?” You nudge gently, trying to wake him up.
“No..” He squeezed tighter, hiding his face. “Please… let’s just stay like this… I need this… Need you…”
Summary -> 1.2k words. Brushing out Manato's fur turns into a mini confession.
Warnings -> None
A/N -> I love when a big strong man ends up being a huge goober. Also, his right nip is totally out in his M6 art, and I never noticed until now. Also also, the demons in my mind are telling me to write smut, and honestly, I might indulge them.
“Hey, hey, stop pulling,” Manato growls, his shoulders tensing as the wire brush caught a tangled patch of fur on the back of his shoulders.
“Stop it.” You smack the brush lightly on the top of his head, listening to the hollow thunk before going back to taking care of the fur on his back. “If you hadn’t neglected it for so long, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Manato seems offended at your words. “I wasn’t neglecting it. The kids just wanted to ride on my shoulders, and the fur got all tangled, and it’s not like I can reach back there to get it myself.”
You pull the brush away, cleaning the bristles and tossing the dark fur in the trash can set up next to you. “And is that the same reason you’re coming to me with your tail all fucked up too?”
Manato was silent at that, his ears flattening to the top of his head as he looks down at his tail. He grabs the second brush you sometimes use for his coarser fur and starts brushing the end of his tail silently. You both sat in this peaceful silence for a bit, just working on brushing out all of his thinner summer coat to help him stay warm as the temperatures drop. After a while, he finally broke the silence, “Does it bother you?”
“Does what bother me?” Your pace slows a bit, now more worried about just feeling his warmth beneath your finger tips instead of actually brushing his fur.
“Me. All the hair I leave around your apartment. Me coming to you every shedding season and pouting the entire time while you just try to help me out.” Manato’s voice had this soft quality to it. You hadn’t heard it this low since A-Yuet scraped her knee and Manato had to patch it up. “I feel like I take up too much of your time.”
You smack the brush on the top of his head playfully again. “You’re too hard on yourself. If it did bother me, I’d stop letting you in.” You drape your arms around his broad, bare shoulders, now letting his broad figure support your entire body weight. “In fact, you’re my favorite. I just love shedding season because it gives you more excuses to come over.” You smile to yourself as you see the soft wagging of his tail despite that frown still painted across his handsome face.
“Favorite, huh?” He avoids looking at you, knowing that he’d break if he did.
“Mhmmm. My favorite wolf. My favorite man. My favorite Manato.” The room is filled with the consistent thump, thump, thump of his tail finding a rhythm against the floor, his fingers suddenly preoccupied with digging into the fibers of the rug beneath him.
“Well I mean if I’m your favorite then I guess It’s good I come to you…” He tries so hard to stay serious, tries to bite back that smile, tries to remain neutral. His blush gives him away, the way he continues to scratch at the rug, and of course that big, fluffy tail.
“Manato.” You say, grabbing his chin and tilting it up to look at you (honestly this may have been the first time you saw him looking up at you). You silently thank yourself for convincing him to sit on the floor in front of your couch.
He just stares up, shocked, his tail freezing as he watches your every movement. “What?”
“For a big, scary man, you are adorable!” You coo, squeezing his face in between your hands as he lets out a little whine and huffs, but his tail wags even faster.
“Stop that!”
“No, no. You’re the best puppy ever, and you’re so cute and sweet and fluffy!” You continue to tease, wiggling his head in your hands as he continues to whimper and whine.
Manato grabs your wrists, twisting himself out of your grip and holding both of your wrists in one hand. “Alright, alright, that’s enough,” he growls, bearing his fangs playfully.
You look at just how big his hands are wrapped around your wrists, your eyes tracing over the veins in his hands. When’s the last time you saw him without his gloves? It was shocking, really. This man, towering over almost everyone and built like a brick wall, could restrain you so gently. One move, one twist of his hand and he could sprain your wrist at least. He squeezes your wrists in his hand, just enough to get your attention.
“Hey, stop zoning out. We were talking.” He pouts, and you look into his eyes. You pull your wrists out of his grip and reach forward, your fingers touching his soft hair, brushing it out of his face. He seems surprised but lets it happen, dropping his hands and letting you shift the direction of the conversation.
“Manato.” You whisper, your fingers tracing the scar over his eyes.
“Yeah?”
“You’re my favorite.” You repeat again, but this time more seriously, this time hoping he’d see the hints you had been trying to drop for so long.
“...Yeah?” Once again, he tries to remain stoic, but his tail starts instantly wagging at a million miles an hour. “Like… favorite favorite?”
You feel your face get hot, but now’s not the time to back down. “Yeah… favorite favorite.”
Manato launches up from his sitting position, pushing you to your back on the couch as he crushes you into a hug, using his entire, shirtless body to squish you. His tail is wagging so hard he knocks over one of your decorative pillows, but he doesn’t care. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath, his nose practically vacuum sealing to your skin. “You’re my favorite too.” He speaks into your skin, grabbing and squishing closer like he was trying to meld into you, not unlike a touch-starved, large dog who just wanted cuddles. What else could you do but take it? You let him crush you, your hand coming up to scratch at the base of his ear, an instinctual low noise rumbling in his chest as he relaxed entirely on top of you.
“Manato?”
“Hm?” He wags his tail harder as he hears his name on your lips again.
“Manato. Look at me.”
“What?” His red eyes look at you with pure adoration. You couldn’t take it anymore. He was too damn cute. You move your lips against his and instantly hear a louder thump, thump, thump as his tail swipes all of the decorative pillows and blankets on your couch, even knocking over one of the back cushions as he kisses back enthusiastically. He crushes you closer, squeezing you closer to him. You could die now and be happy, because at least you’d go out between a broad chest and thick arms. Your hands found his shoulders, half petting the fur before you pull away suddenly.
Manato’s eyes go wide with worry, his tail slowing down as his hand goes to cup your cheek. “Hey, hey. What happened?”
“Dammit… I missed a spot.” You huff and show him the fistful of his summer coat you had just pulled off of his shoulder, and his tail started up again.
“Oh noooo, you have to brush me more. How terrible.” He teases, handing you the brush again. Instead of moving to sit on the floor again, he simply flops down on top of you, happy to cuddle while you brush him.
tags domestic fluff, established relationship, college au, slightly ooc scaramouche, gender neutral reader
𝝑𝝔 in which kunikuzushi doesn't know how to say i love you.
you don’t expect him to say it. you’ve learned not to.
raiden kunikuzushi is not the type to lace his words with honey or his hands with warmth. his affection, if it exists at all, hides between tight-lipped silences and sharp-edged glances—the kind that linger just a beat too long to mean nothing. you’ve known that since the first time he brushed you off in debate club, eyes cold and voice even colder, and still found a way to walk you home later that night “because it’s dark and you’re slow.”
now, in the cramped dorm kitchen that smells faintly of burnt toast and instant coffee, you watch him frown at the pan like it’s personally offended him.
“you’re doing it wrong,” you say, leaning against the counter.
he doesn’t look up. “you’re welcome to take over, then.”
“you’re burning the eggs.”
“i’m cooking the eggs.”
you bite back a laugh. he’s trying, in his own prickly, awkward way. you know it. the eggs are uneven and the toast is a little too brown, but he’d never wake up this early just for himself. you’d mentioned once—offhandedly, while studying for midterms—that you missed proper breakfasts. he’d only hummed. you hadn’t thought he was listening.
he slides the plate toward you without meeting your eyes. “eat before it gets cold.”
you take a bite. it’s not good. it’s edible, though, and that’s more than enough. “you cooked for me,” you say softly.
he freezes, spatula still in hand. “…don’t make it sound like a big deal.”
“it is a big deal.”
kunikuzushi’s jaw tightens. he sets the spatula down, leaning on the counter beside you. “you’re… difficult,” he mutters finally. “you make a big deal out of everything.”
you smile into your coffee. “and you don’t make a big enough deal out of anything.”
he rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. it’s the closest thing to a smile he’ll allow himself before noon. you finish eating in comfortable silence—him scrolling through his phone, you stealing glances when you think he won’t notice.
when you move to rinse your plate, his hand shoots out, fingers brushing your wrist. it’s so quick, so fleeting, that for a second you think you imagined it. his expression doesn’t change, but his grip lingers just long enough to make your pulse stutter.
“i’ll do it,” he says.
“you don’t have to—”
“i said i’ll do it.”
you hand him the plate, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. his ears are a little red. you don’t point it out. you’ve learned that sometimes, the kindest thing you can do for him is to let him try.
after the dishes are done, he follows you to the couch. you’re reading an article on coral bleaching, trying to focus on the words, but his presence beside you is distracting—quiet but heavy, like a storm waiting to break.
he doesn’t touch you, doesn’t lean in, but his leg brushes yours once, twice, deliberately. it’s a question he doesn’t know how to ask.
so you answer it for him. you lean just enough that your shoulder rests against his.
he stiffens, exhales slowly, and doesn’t move away.
minutes pass like that. the world hums soft around you—the faint buzz of the fridge, the whisper of turning pages. you think he’s fallen asleep until his voice breaks the quiet.
“…you know i’m not good at this,” he says.
“i know.”
“i don’t—” he hesitates, as if the words are caught on the edge of his pride. “i don’t know how to say things the right way.”
you close your book. “then don’t say them. just… be here.”
he looks at you then, eyes sharp and uncertain, like he’s trying to memorize the way you said that. and for once, he doesn’t fight himself. his fingers twitch against his thigh before finally, carefully, finding yours.
it’s not a perfect hold—his palm is clammy, his touch too tentative—but it’s real.
you squeeze back, gentle. “see? not so hard.”
he huffs out something between a sigh and a laugh. “you’re impossible.”
“mm. you like me anyway.”
“unfortunately.” but his thumb traces a small, nervous circle against your hand.
you don’t need him to say it out loud. you already know.
and in that quiet, between the warmth of his skin and the steady beat of your joined hands, you think—maybe that’s enough.
got sick before i could get any thoughts down but i'm so excited to write about a first love scenario w/ manato. someone who's had to work so hard to cultivate love and care for himself until it became a perennial garden in his heart, but for others, always for others. who's the gardener who finds him among the overgrowth? I can see him like a spindly vine, stretched thin from ever reaching towards the light, not taking time to nourish himself. look hoyo gave him flower imagery not me, i'm just staying on theme.
i think he'd be so anxious and embarrassed about it. quickly excusing himself when you two occupy the same, because the change in your scent to something inviting, anticipating, is just too much for him. you rather think he must not like you given his frowns and averted face, unless you're a Thiren, too. otherwise yuzuha's probably having a field day hooking you both up.
i can only imagine manato as the picture of anxiety, fretting over every action, whether it's holding your gaze or letting your fingers brush. what's too much, too little? what's decent? he can't even consider kissing without veritably exploding, tail going supersonic. and with his siblings running about as his top priority the need to tuck you into his routine is natural as it is. challenging.
but it can happen, will happen. whether tensions break at the edge of a Hollow, an unconventional spot for privacy, or a quiet moment is shared after hitting up the night market. manato is easy to love in practice, challenging to get him to accept that love in practice. but it's so worth it to nurture that seed and see it grow, flourish through the cracks and bloom lush and resilient.
